Taming You
by KitKatKittyKat007
Summary: Without warning, Korra is kidnapped and held prisoner by Equalists. She will stop at nothing for her freedom, and Amon will do any means necessary to control her. M for later chapters.
1. Taken

This is my first M writing I have officially written to the public, so I apologize if this comes off as too harsh or not enough. I am going to start it slow though as heads up, because I feel it unecessary to push things too quickly. But anyways, I want go on and say. . . I love this pairing. I FRICKING LOVE. THIS. PAIRING. At last we have a cool female character like Korra who isn't hesitant to confront a situation unlike other female character, and Amon being the mysterious, badass, antagonist that he is—I have a strong feeling this new series is going to be .TIC!. . . . . . . . and it is. . . .

Muahahaha!

So to all Amorra fans. Enjoy. X3!

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Korra came to with a nasty taste in her mouth. She blinked her eyes several times to get used to the darkness that enveloped her, but scrunched her brow when she felt the soreness in her arms that were now raised above her head chained to the wall. The smooth texture of the locks left little space for her wrists to circulate blood into her fingers, let alone keep them from falling asleep. It was the same to the shackles that confined her to the cold metal floor, Korra was completely immobilized no matter how many scenarios she formulated.

It all happened so fast. The thought of the incident to be a dream was little less than convincing after making out the situation Korra knew she was now in.

Rain fell not long after the end of the tournament. The Fire Ferrets made yet another well-deserved victory up until they went to the training room to wash up and leave for the day with their prides intact and the glory merely fingertips closer to obtain. Of course it was Korra who started it, and of course she had been too ill-tempered to comprehend what she had done would without question lead to heavy consequences. But it was also Mako's fault. He was being him. And Korra was being. . . well, usual Korra. And Bolin, poor Bolin, was the brother who could do nothing to prevent his teammates from lashing out at each other mercilessly. Korra was about to cheer for another success only for it to be stamped on viciously as the dictator of the team threw her way negative implications Korra felt were out of her control. Yes, Korra couldn't make to all their practices. She had to keep the peace in Republic city on a daily basis, while at the same time maintain balance of all elements and prevent an Equalists havoc on the same agenda—that was the duty of the Avatar. It was a duty that, at the time, didn't seem much of a bad thing. But this was now. Korra was no longer the three year old with a bloated tummy boasting about the promising adventure and recognition that came with the title of being the reincarnated avatar. She was a teenager now, and she was definitely not too hot-headed to know when not to use her title in an argument against her teammates. It would cause more harm than good. But the things Mako spat her only tempted the words that already played at her lips more so. When the argument ended—on a very sour note, to be exact—Korra stormed out into the rain without the proper attire like other civilians were wearing. She was so angry that she even refused a ride back to the Air Temple with Bolin, even after witnessing her and his brother fighting. What happened next only made her night all the more worse.

If only she were paying attention, Korra had ran through her mind over and over again. This would never have happened. Aimlessly walking down an alleyway as the sun disappeared completely disappeared, a most unwise action in any time and day, Korra was ambushed by black and green that was too fast for her to react in time. It was all starting to come back to her has her mind recalled her arm going limp in one breath of the sudden attack. Korra was quick on her toes soon enough and used her water-bending to counter the chi-blockers with the rain. She thought she had the upper hand for as she made to swipe around her personal space to knock out two blockers with one attack, yet their movements had her had at surprise. The instant the ring of water expanded, one leaped in the mid-air while the other dropped under the ring and made for a puncture to Korra's chi-point. Followed by another, and another. And then her back was attacked by a dozen chi-blocking that she gave to a yelp and fell to the wet concrete floor not long after.

And now Korra was here alone in the darkness. Alone. Restrained. Bending-less. Soaked to the bone. And. . . afraid.

She darted her gaze in every direction, searching for a way out of this predicament to no avail. After what had to be an hour of no results, Korra opened her mouth to shout out until she caught the sounds of footsteps echoing into the room and a light growing closer to her direction. In the darkness, Korra could vaguely make out a tall figure, much taller than she, until her electric blue eyes made out white and red and green. Her confused and shocked expression instantly changed to anger and contempt.

Amon emerged from the shadows before Korra with a lamp in his hand and the other behind his back. He looked down on her weakened form with a satisfied look, tipping his head ever so slightly in the process. As he crouched and at last moved his hand from behind his back to her face Korra knew that this was it. Her bending was going to be taken away, and to her it was worse than death.

Weakness was never a trait Korra was accustomed to, even now she felt her eyes sting in betrayal for her incapability to be stronger than the enemy, against Amon. How could she let him get the best of her? She was the avatar for crying out loud. The only being capable of bending all elements known across the lands, and yet here she sat, vulnerable and at the mercy of Republic City's number one enemy.

_How could she let him get the best of her?_

When his hand was an inch from her forehead, fear took over Korra to avert her gaze away from those eyes staring her down like an easy meal. His hand, however, twisted and stroked her still-wet-bangs from her face—a gesture that had Korra to question the mysterious man's motives on a whole other level—then forcibly grabbed her chin up to look at him.

"Greetings, young Avatar."

The young brunette looked up to the man in silence, her lips unable to formulate any intelligible notion in return.

"You must still be in shock, but needn't worry." His hand left Korra's cheek and slid down in slow agony, his fingertips stinging against Korra's chocolate skin, until resting at her vulnerable neck. ". . . no harm will come to you so long as you comply to my demands."

"D-demands?" her voice finally revived, anger re-emerging. "Y-you kidnapped me. Out of nowhere you kidnapped me! Why am I here? What are you going to do me! Let me go, you—"

"_Hush, young one_." The irony in his words really pissed Korra off. The usual dark tone from behind that horrid mask could not be determined behind the velvet-coated voice a parent used when soothing their child. "I will answer any question you have so long as you _calm down_."

The emphasis on the last two words sent euphoria of agitation within the Water Tribe teen; she closed her lips and relaxed her posture, indicating her temporary compliance.

"Good girl." Amon praised dryly. "My Lieutenant felt otherwise, but you _can_ be prudent with the correct motivation, of course.

"Where. Am. I?"Korra hissed through a tightly clenched teeth. Her expression intensified slightly. Brows furrowed, seething at the man now sitting in front of her, his eyes detached, guarded, and eluding Korra's advances to further figuring out his motives.

"This is your new abode," Amon spoke casually as he sat himself in front of her, ". . . in other words, your prison. You are confined under an Equalist headquarters where you will be kept until your presence no longer benefits me."

Korra growled at that, "People will look for me! Don't you for a second think I won't get out of here either."

"I'm aware, I've taken a further step ahead and prepared for whatever vain attempts you will make."

"You psychotic lunatic! I'll break your—" Korra was cut short when Amon lifted a hand and made a motion of moving his finger side to side.

His mask drew closer. Korra breathed heavily from the close contact, she could feel her breath against his mask but received nothing in return except for the voice emanating from under that cape. "What a shame. Perhaps Lieutenant is right. You really shouldn't become difficult—especially in your situation."

Korra growled just like Naga would if any dangerous animal came too close to Korra when she was much smaller. "I'll show you difficult!" Ripping against her chains to the point her wrists began to sting, Korra lashed out and squirmed to get closer to the man watching her with placid calm, intent on inflicting harm—any if not, on Amon. She just wanted to prove him wrong and make her right when she said she would escape. She will escape. And Amon will be sorely sorry for trying to capture her. When restraints remained unyielding Korra gave into her rage and threw his way series of epithets and other sorts of profanity, none affecting the man from what Korra could see. She struggled again after it was clear words were meaningless and actions were more effective. After what must have been an hour, Korra accomplished two sore and badly bruised wrists as well as her shoulders hanging her tired, limp body as her sweat stuck her messy hair to her face.

Amon just sat there and watched the whole time, and even though Korra was too tired to look up to see his face, she was sure he must be getting a kick of seeing his enemy in such a piteous state.

"So that's it then. . ." Betraying tears stung at her blue eyes as Korra forced herself to breathe, "You will take my bending away now and leave me here to rot away. . ." The last sentence croaked through ragged breaths. The idea of dying in such a deplorable place made the tears sting more. When Korra felt she would cry any minute, she bit her bottom lip hard only for a whimper to escape.

Cold fingers picked Korra's sticky hair out of her face, then felt her chin forcefully yet gently lifted up to face Amon. In that instant as Korra was forced to gaze in the Equalist Leader's unemotional eyes, she realized true fear in what this man could bring to her. She didn't want her bending taken away. Bending was what made Korra who she was—what she was. But as she limply hung on the wall before Amon, Korra knew he would without a doubt destroy her.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

_If at all possible_, Korra inwardly cried. _Please make it painless._

Blue eyes looking into empty was cut off by an intimidating hand making its way to Korra's face. And when Amon covered Korra's forehead with the palm of his hand, Korra flinched so hard it sent rattling shivers down her entire frame. Korra was tempted to beg, beg for her life even, but when she felt the palm glide it's way to the side of her face instead of to the center of her brow as demonstrated at the Revelation merely weeks ago, Korra frantically eyed Amon carefully, cautiously. Wondering, again, what the mysterious man was up to. His caress sending waves of unwanted feelings deep inside her.

"Not quite, young Avatar. Not quite. Such an amusing imagination, though."

Korra couldn't hold back the whimper in her throat. "W-w-what?"

"To make you a martyr would prove to be a difficult obstacle for my goal. But to take your bending away _now_ would also take away the purpose for you being here in the first place. It would be most regrettable for you not to suffer as well." His grip tightened, causing Korra to wince as she felt his fingernails dig into her flesh. "And I do _not_ want any regrets as I slowly destroy you."

Korra's eyes widened in fear. Thoughts screamed to run away and tear away from his menacing grasp, but all Korra could manage was shivering in her bonds.

"This is the arrangement, young Avatar Korra." He said her name with malice, oozing with venomous hate. "You will be confined to this room for the remainder of your days. During this time, you will be provided the necessities to keep you sustained. As I said before, no harm will come to you so long as you _comply_," he emphasized slowly for good measure, "And after I accomplished my goal and end all bending in every nation, you will be presented before the entire world to see. There, I will finally relinquish you of both your bending _and_ your title as the Avatar, ending bending and creating Equality amongst men as it should have been. Forever."

"Your wrong! The Republic council will stop you. Even without me!"

"We shall see, but for now. . ." A motion of his hand, and two Equalists followers appeared from the shadows behind Amon. "During your confinement, I see this the perfect opportunity to perform a rehabilitation of whatever nonsense Republic City has you to believe that you are a higher being." Walking around the two, Korra heard their soft footsteps continue until they halted right behind her. "You will be required to have you bending blocked at all times as you slowly realize that the Avatar is no more significant than the rest of all non-benders in the world." She heard them crouch, and was about squirm in every direction after realizing their intents. Any attempts were quickly subdued, however, as Amon must have read her mind because the next thing she knew Korra was snatched into a powerful hold, her cold body tightly pressed against Amon's warm chest. The chi-blockers wasted little time proceeding to block her chi again. Every stab came in slow succession up to her neck, while Korra screamed in pain, clenching her fists in attempt to divert some of the pain.

Korra's body immediately felt weightless against Amon's warm chest when they were done. Her vision began to blur but Korra willed herself to stay awake as long as possible. "There, there, young avatar. This procedure will be regular, but you'll endure." Her shoulders were roughly pushed away from the warmth and watched helplessly as Amon rose to his feet and glanced at her one last time before turning on his heels to depart.

". . . I await to see the feisty and strong-willed bender you claim yourself to be at last crumble at my feet after you realize _escaping me_ is impossible." At such a distance, Korra's ears heard Amon smile from underneath his mask. "Until then, good night. Food will arrive in the morning

Amon left without another word, fading further and further into the darkness until Korra's watery, tear-filled eyes could no longer make him out from the darkness. She went limped not long after, and curled into her chest, rocking back and forth, praying that she would indeed escape to her friends and family.

* * *

And that's it for now. (It's a bit short for my taste, so don't be expecting the next chapters to be in the same length.)

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Please review, and enjoy Legend of Korra galore. :)


	2. Hunger Strike

Ohhh I like the reviews I'm getting so far. Really nice, AND appreciative.

So anyway's I do plan on making a few pictures from this series in the later future( probably summer time when I'm finally graduated from highschool). Hopefully by that time we learn a little bit more about Amon's deal( I just hope they don't ruin his character into some freakshow or some other mishap)

As for the story itself I'll continue to write to the best of my ability, but this story is on the edge of a cliff (I'd feel _reeeaaally_ creepy writing this if Amon turns out to be someone closely related to Korra in some way. I don't do _really_ old people, and I _especially_ don't do incest. That stuffs gross but its my opinion, so no offense to anyone else. Just rambling.). I'm praying for all that is good-story-telling that what Amon is saying about his past is true and not a ploy for propaganda (even if it was his intention to call forth more followers in his reign for Equality. I just want him to be the farm-boy that no one knows about).

So to all Amorra fans out there. . . Enjoy!

* * *

It is said that one can sleep in the most awkward places and still wake up with little difficulty as far as an ache. A person can sleep on their stomach feeling bloated and self-conscious, yet wake the next morning feeling well rested. A person who eats nothing at night will wake up the next day feeling numb until mobility burns the body to counteract the deficiencies—yet sleep as if they haven't rested for days. A person can sleep on the floor with nothing but a blanket and a single pillow and start the next day feeling like a million yuans.

Korra did not sleep well that night. In fact, Korra did not get a wink's rest in her cold, depraved cell, sprung up, as if prepared to be crucified. Being bound in such a manner could hardly be valid for comfortable, much less satisfying. Resting in such a place wasn't even half the reason for Korra's inability to slumber either way.

The video of what had occurred yesterday replaying before Korra's eyes was three fourths of the jolt Korra would wake to each time her eyelids forced to close. To Korra what happened last night could only be described in similarity to an impossible nightmare that was too detailed than vague. She had gone it over and over again. Her constant repetition of an act, in her defense, was because the very ailment of her depravity designated from the ghostly pale white mask carrying that unearthly voice who would always intrude in time of her sleep.

Amon.

Ghostly chills crawled up her spine by just the mere thought of the name. The lunatic that had always been composed even against the strongest bender and still walk away as if his opponent was a mere novice. It was, in Korra's eyes, unnatural. His voice flowed with an air of composure and unchallenged leadership without the slightest hint of confliction. Poise and elegance cannot describe the man's inhuman posture with each event he gave a speech. A few times Korra would sneak in behind enemy lines to better understand the man who claimed to be who he was, and each time, Korra would walk away with a disheartened clench in her stomach. Every time she saw him demonstrate his gift, Korra began to question which party was indeed superior. The avatar with the ability to bend all four natural elements—or the mysterious masked man with an unholy power to take one's bending.

That man is a_ monster_.

Korra shook her head angrily. How dare she think herself lowly against that man—no! That monster! She was the avatar. And she always will be, and no one will take it away from her. Not even Amon.

Recalling the situation at hand, Korra began to strategize every possible abscond her imagination could conceive. For starters, Korra would rather chew her own hand than indulge her captor's humor by eating whatever substance they present her. She would be defiant, in any case, it didn't matter who. Amon's 'rehabilitation' term obviously referred to her pathetically obeying his every demands. But Korra would never lower herself before him. Never. His followers would prove to be yet another complication in her escape attempts. Disabled as they are in the arts of bending, that did not exclude the superior agility they clearly possessed along with their frightening chi-blocking accuracy. One puncture to any vital part of her body would be the undoing of her chances for escape. And, as far as Korra would allow herself to familiarize with their leader, Amon himself stated his efficiency in being one step ahead in case she did manage to free herself from her bonds—so far, that man has stabilized the gravity of his word since their first meeting.

During the course of her own inner rambling, Korra failed to notice the door to her cell click and part ways until the sounds of audible footsteps heading her way caught her attention. Korra felt her heart pulse out of her ribcage as she heard the guest of her abode drawing nearer. Each step closing in on her at a slow steady pace. Korra found herself shivering in her shackles, her eyes darting towards the sounds in hopes of finding the source of the footsteps.

She was flushed with relief, and grateful, to find her fear in vain as an Equalist crony, attired in the basic clothing of green and black along with the goggled visage protecting their identity, presenting himself before the avatar. His rigid posture, and the visible expeditious manners made his distaste in being at such close proximity clear. She eyed the man warily, cautioned by the evident hostility lurking after him. The man did not speak a word to her as he made his round, viewing her constraints for any defect. Aside from the small patches of brown rust infecting the chains, Korra had done little more than scratched the shackles after her previous outbreak against Amon's proclamation. Korra kept a blank face as he did, until frowning into a glare—particularly in the direction of what was in the man's possession.

White rice, a fresh slice of a loaf of bread, and a clear cup of water on a small plate was placed in front of Korra. Its simplistic and drab presentation wasn't as much of a big hint compared to the cronies attitude to point out everything these Equallists members did for her was entirely professional.

The man scooped up a spoonful of white rice and brought it up to Korra's face for her to eat. Against her own body's wishes, Korra turned away from the offer, clenching her eyes shut so as not to betray herself into giving in, with a harsh, "No thank you."

The man was taken aback, at first, maybe, curious, and then pursued again. This time more forcefully. "You must eat. Open your mouth. Now!"

"I said NO!"

"It's really delicious."

"Don't care," Korra rasped.

"It is not poisoned if that is what you are imagining."

The idea of the consumptions to be tampered with never once crossed Korra's mind. Young innocence had blinded her judgment of how easily these people could take advantage of her. But Korra relied on her stubbornness, churning the spark into a bright flame of ambition and hope, focusing to the task of what could be won in the end.

Korra stole away from the invading silver utensil's touch tickling at her bottom lip mockingly. The smell of the rice snaked into her nostrils, inviting her, teasing her. Korra's stomach twisted softly, begging to be filled, but Korra made for a loud enough whine to drown out the betraying grumble.

Baring her clenched teeth so hard her jaw ached, Korra growled, "No!"

"_Please_ . . . eat the food," the man forced through, the spoon inching closer to Korra's tightly shut mouth.

And Korra returned, "_Please_ . . . leave me be."

A gloved hand snatched at her face roughly to face him. "Listen here, you brat. You will eat this, and I better not hear another word against it. Got it." To better enforce his command, the man thrust the spoon in front of Korra to end the argument.

Korra attempts to glare into those green goggles ended in vain, as it were, since she couldn't see the man's eyes. In the end, she made it appear to open her mouth, allowed the silver utensil to pass her lips into settling on her tongue. And when Korra chewed, and saw that the man was satisfied for her reluctance—unguarded and gullible—Korra spat the mesh of white rice straight at the red circle on his mask. Korra settled for a grin as she witness the man snarl and make himself more pathetic by wiping the mush off his forehead.

"Enough. I'm giving you to the count of three," three fingers were flashed before Korra's eyes. " . . . until you eat this food!. . . One . . . " Korra viewed the man unresponsively, who now stood up straight from his previous placement, and couldn't help but feel the thrill of accomplishment breaking this man's composure. ". . . Two. . . I'm warning you. . ." That composure cracked, crumbled, and withered as the Water Tribe avatar remained unmoving. And Korra could have sworn she could make out the harsh grinding of dental emanating from under the henchman's mask.

"One. More. Warning. . . . "

Arching her back outward, perking her chest out and permitting her stomach a delicate stretch, Korra stretched out her arms and popped her shoulders in the process. A few more pops were stressed from her spine, causing for a well-needed writhe of delicious pleasure. Oh how Korra wished she could run, condition, heck—do push-ups. Her mind pondered to the numerous activities she will conduct herself soon after her escape. She will escape, she inwardly chimed. Korra's the Avatar.

Before the man's body started to convulse to what Korra could foresee as a potential tantrum—Korra churned her throat bringing up spit and mixing it with the mucus collected in her nostrils, loud enough to be heard throughout the entire room, angled her head to face the man eye to goggles, and spat his way a large missile of mucus the same time Korra heard the word, "Three!" from the man. It landed on his chest. And from a distance, Korra mentally compiled it to be her new record.

With a grin that reached to her ears, Korra watched with overcoming dark amusement as the man howled in a startling raging fit and spewing words more suitably exchanged within a local tavern. On his self-rampage to the exit, she called for the man one last time, one last push over the edge, to ruin the start of this unlucky man's morning.

"I'm still quite famished, my good sir. Whence you return, shall we commence yet another engagement of wits and other sorts of town fooleries." The imitation was uncanny, even to Korra. Weeks of teasing and tampering with the political mannerism she had come to tolerate under the tutelage of Tenzin finally amounted in usefulness.

An unintelligible adjective—or perhaps another form of profanity—ruptured from the man, giving into what composure he had left, then swiftly excused himself, leaving the now-lonely-Korra in the dark once more with nothing but the harsh sounding of slammed doors from afar indicating her visitor's retreat.

Not long after, whence silence itself attempted to fill at Korra's hearing, a stomach-ripping laugh came over the seventeen-year-old as she celebrated one of her small-more-to-come victories.

An hour or so later, Korra would be graced by not just one but four henchmen, all atired in the same uniforms, all looking to her with the same level of aversion overwhelming the atmosphere inside Korra's solitary peace.

She was snatched into a hold, her raised arms strained to follow from how far they were restrained in the air, the caps in her knees strained to balance her body as she was prostrated uncomfortable by two pairs of rough hands. The punctures to her body were soon to follow, and once completed, Korra was left in a fog of faint vagueness, listening to an audible breath. Was it hers? Was she the one giving to those loud intakes of air? Korra was allowed little time to verify as her brain came across an absence along her wrists. Her blue eyes blinked at the sound of clattered metal, listening carefully this time, her keen senses returning in gradual succession.

Korra was being freed.

Or so she thought.

It was a mistake, for starters. And she wasn't sure at the time whether it was the blind ambition for freedom—or perhaps the delirium she had left to expel, that mobilized Korra to make a jump past the guards and break for the exit. What prevented her from her possible success at freedom's pleasures were the flash of green gloved grips that tore her shoulder back—and the fact that her legs were sore from having to sit in a kneeing position for more than four hours. Korra began to utter sharp, piercing cries as they held her down, she resisted further by punching and kicking at whoever—wherever they were—tried to keep her in place. This only provoked more screaming, and thrashing as the large group proceeded with a resistant avatar out the door and into a hallway that was provided with a dim light of lamps lined along the walls in either direction.

Korra's eyes strained momentarily from the brightness, her eyes adjusting from the darker, void, abyss that was her cell, and was pushed rather roughly in the right direction. She hissed and jerked her shoulder away, only to be jerked back harshly.

Walking in the middle with two guards walking two paces behind and the other two on either side with firm grips on her shoulders, Korra refrained from resisting until she found out where exactly these people were leading her.

_Are they taking me to Amon?_ Korra began to think frantically. Maybe he changed his mind and wanted to kill her after all. Or by some impossibility, compassioned to free her from her imprisonment. So many questions flooded her mind as she contemplated what fate Amon designed for her, a 'rehabilitation' effort set up to break down mentally, perhaps.

After some time when she couldn't stand the muteness or the clatter of feet, Korra at last grumbled impatiently, "Where are you taking me?" She glared.

"Bathroom," came a sharp reply.

Korra compressed her lips, flushing with inner embarrassment for her imagination taking her over. It never came to her that she would need to relieve herself every now and then and, most of all, take baths.

The Water Tribe teen mentally slapped herself right there and now. She can't feel comfortable with this; she was kidnapped for God's sake. She couldn't afford them any hint of compliance to these arrangements, she will not satisfy them.

Korra was pushed inside the bathroom as soon as they arrived, the door slammed, a quick click, and another harsh voice came. "You have one hour. We will come in to get you _whether you are ready **or** not._"

Korra didn't waste it. She inspected every nook and cranny the bathroom had to offer. The white bathtub to the right, inviting as it was, revealed no escape path. Neither was the toilet a foot away, nor behind the sink that contained bathing utilities and a single folded towel. Nothing. Korra grunted in aggravation. There wasn't even a window. Korra did find a vent just above the showerhead, but that was a waste of time. She was too muscular to fit through, and even if she were a little on the feminine side, it was bolted shut. Closer inspection showed this feature was recently done; Korra could assume Amon had that specially done just for her sake.

"Guess he wasn't kidding after all," Korra mused to herself.

True to their word, the guards who brought Korra opened the door (without knocking) to witness the avatar against the wall, staring at them venomously. Spreading her legs, Korra crouched with her arms held out, fists clenched, ready to take on anyone. Even blocked, Korra ignored the handi-cap she would have to fight with. Chi-blocked be damned, such a setback did not hinder Korra's combat skills in the slightest. Firm muscles defined what her body was. Strong, powerful, and deadly. Her fists have conquered against the strongest, with legs that could cut clean through the largest wildfires any firebender sent her way.

The first to enter the bathtub walked up to her, scoffing at her posture, making to snatch her arm. In a quick reflexive response, Korra ripped it upward, followed by a upper kick to the stomach, and whipped in the air with a kick, followed by another, and landed back to the ground, the first down, the next to come.

Korra's actions summoned the rest of the guards, their movements blurring into the orange lit light of the bathroom, facing her without hesitation but lacking the same cockiness as their fallen comrade.

She managed to take down one more person, before the numbing burned through her arm, then her legs. Korra fell to the floor as fast as she can jump into the air with ease. It didn't take long after when it became apparent she was too dazed to move, rough bruising arms drew her out the bathroom with her legs dragging behind, and brought back to her cell, chained again, and left alone.

This behavior would repeat itself for the next day, Korra wild actions more aggressive as the day went by, and her determination unwavering for the sweet agony of freedom. She never hesitated to act out her defiance, nor succumbed to the empty churns within her belly.

On the third day, the schedule continued unaltered. When Korra would be given her usual of rice, bread, and water. She would flail and scream and thrash about as if she were to be on fire. And yet, as she continued to retaliate in blind fury, the cup of water, dripping cool moisture, welcoming her, teased at her misfortune with each spilled drop. Korra resorted to averting her eyes from that moment on, realizing her hunger beginning to consume her desires, yet she refused to give in and admit defeat.

Her state did not go unnoticed. The man, who, somehow, since their first encounter, grew somewhat accustomed to Korra's reactions, and left in a desperate situation where he simply poured the cup of water over Korra's head, refraining from coming too close, and hoping for the water to replenish the avatar's pitiful state.

Adding to her sullen state, Korra hadn't taken a shower in two whole days, her hair was oily, her skin dirtied and sticky of sweat, her limbs aching for release. Her whole body was in pain for she could feel without physical touch of the bruises resulted from the repeated abuse of chi-blockers.

On the night when Korra could no longer breath without taking larger intakes of breath, her own sweat soaking her hair, making it so heavy that it forced her to drop her head and hurt her neck, she was visited by the very creator of her torment. She had been asleep due to dehydration and lack of nutrition, giving in to the nothingness that was sure to follow slumber, until, suddenly, she felt the bone-chilling gushing of water in her face.

Korra snapped her eyes open, gasping in air as her heart struggled to retain a normal rhythm.

Another gush of water came crashing into Korra's face. She coughed on cold water, struggling to breathe, to see what was happening. When the water finally stopped, and her eyes were able to see her surroundings. Korra thought her heart couldn't jump any harder.

Amon stood a distance away, his arms behind his back, his eyes set upon her in slits, dispassionate gaze cutting right through her very being, causing fear in her heart. Surrounding him were perhaps more than a dozen concealed members staring at her with curiosity, contempt, and, possibly, unlikely, pity.

Without breaking eye contact, he spoke to the darkness, "Again."

Korra struggled to angle her head to see a slimly built man of whom she overheard a few referred to him as 'Lieutenant' gesture the man next to him. She saw the man turn a red nozzle behind his back, and the next thing her body felt was the stinging slap of icy cold water soaking her to the bone. She cried out, but choked on her own words from suffocation by water. Vaguely, she heard the squeak of a knob, and hissing of water slowly fading. Korra sucked in air, her eyes burning, body aching.

Footsteps stopped in front of her, Korra lifted her head up again to look up to Amon face to face. Brave as she was, Korra could not help but stare at the man with widen eyes, dreading what he was about to do to her in front of all these people.

"As you have just witnessed before you, the Avatar is completely harmless," she heard Amon stress upon his loyal followers, insultingly to her, eyes unfaltering from staring directly at her. Korra nearly forgot how this man can instill fear without physical harm. "She is no different from any other normal being, and shall be treated as such. If she proves to be a constant difficulty, simply discipline our proud guest to the best of your intentions. And if she continues to deny our hospitality . . . "His eyes intensified on Korra, who, was now shivering in her bonds, cold and shaking with an apprehension of a punishment sure to come. ". . . please feel free to notify Lieutenant or I and we will personally settle the matter. Civilly, of course." Amon made a gesture with an open hand as he took two paces back. "You may proceed."

A crony moved forward with a bowl of fried rice. Korra averted her eyes, fear clenching her insides painfully, agonizing waves of hunger taking over. Her body shook violently from the cold, her clothes weighing her tired form to the ground. A whimper was begging to escape, but Korra bit back her fear, for fear itself kept her from crying in front of all these people.

_Don't cry. _

_Don't cry._

_Don't cry. _

She didn't even give the spoonful of fried rice a side-ways glance as it inched towards her parched lips. Hopefully out of view, Korra licked her lips opposite from everyone's gaze, shamefully, helplessly. The smell of cooked egg, steamed rice, and every other scent that burned in Korra's nose hypnotized her mind to think of bizarre imaginations of consuming that delicious bowl of food.

"It would appear our guest is in need of assistance," Amon's voice sounded so close. It was as if he were right next to the man, watching her. She could envision his mask hovering her like an evil spirit, waiting for her destruction.

"You may continue, our brother."

Brother. A term often used amongst the Equalists. Korra never understood why they went about calling each other brothers and sisters, personally it creeped her out. Korra eyed the man Amon had just called 'brother' warily, following his hand place the spoon back in the bowl, and grabbed a handful of the fried rice in the palm of his gloved hand. Korra hadn't the time to comprehend the unusual action as her mouth was pried open by a pair of hands from behind, then after the man moved closer to the helpless avatar and shoved the food down her throat. Korra gagged and tried to twist away, but couldn't. Her mouth was clamped shut, forcing Korra to swallow the rice, grudgingly satisfying the clench in her belly. Korra bent over soon after and coughed when she was finally let go, scrunching her brow angrily at how Amon was playing dirty just to get his way.

The man of whom she was cursing for years to come walked to her, lowering his head, the shadows the dark room afforded him made his mask all the more frightening. Korra had to believe she was in another nightmare.

"Is the avatar too exhausted? I was given numerous accounts of an uncivilized Water Tribe savage acting out against our kindness."

Something snapped. Somewhere between uncivilized and savage something within Korra's composure cracked and broke free. She didn't hold it back, and allowed it to burst out into a flame of fury, like an enraged firebender.

"Who said that!" Korra rumbled. "Which one of you lowdown, cowardly, shrimpy, scum said that!" Finding her lost confidence, Korra tore at the shackles that held her arms in the air, yelling to be freed. Another shower of ice cold water silenced Korra instantly, shrinking into herself protectively as it took longer for her tormenter to cease. As much as she missed the feel of water, Korra didn't want the reunion to be under such horrible circumstances.

"That is enough," Amon commanded. "I do believe this demonstration expels any doubt of handling our guest, no matter the cause." He received an undeniable, and irrefutable accord in response. "Splendid. You are all relieved. Return to your posts unless otherwise." The clatter of footsteps filled the cell for a breaths moment. Korra could hear from her own heaving state Amon speaking to someone, possibly his lieutenant, before she heard one last pair of footsteps exiting, and another she had yet to hear.

Despite her personality, Korra didn't wish to make eye contact with Amon. Those black eyes—or, at least she thought they were black—would read her mind, see through her barriers and figure some way to get inside her head, and throw her out of balance.

A soft, delicate touch traced from her right cheek down to her check, then a gripping snatch that made Korra shake abrubtly in her already shivering state, and Korra was forced to look at that mask. Korra hissed, almost as if he was aware of her discomfort to the intimacy their eyes shared.

She admits to acknowledge his effect on her, though she would never admit it to _him_, of course. And, even as she tried her best to appear the dominant opponent during their quiet, verbal-less quarrel, her eyes would drop to the ground in defeat, and she could have sworn she could hear a torn smirk under that dreadful mask.

"Stubborn seems the best definition in accordance to your personality."

Korra stifled a snort, it didn't come out as confident as she had hoped for. "Is that an insult?"

"No," he spoke casually, like they have known each other for years. It was possible. She was the reincarnation of the late Avatar Aang. Perhaps Aang spoke with him long ago and wasn't aware that he would be speaking to the future enemy number one of the grand city Fire Lord Zuko and he created. "And whether it was, it wouldn't matter. You directly disobeyed me, young one. And I am not pleased—or amused—in the slightest."

"I'm sorry," Korra snarled sarcastically. "My intentions were _never_ against you." She used the same exact tone whence she grew tired and somber of the daily stiff that was Tenzin and spoke in such a way to get him riled up and relax.

"So you say, but I did warn you," he lectured softly. "Your compliance will bring you no harm under our custody."

"I never wanted to be in your custody to begin with."

"You do not have the choice, and I cannot stress enough for you to finally understand the necessity for your stay here."

"What's to understand!" Korra yelled at him, ignoring her instincts to draw back. "There is nothing necessary in holding a little girl prisoner!"

Korra shivered instinctively in fear because whatever she said just now received a very unpleasant, unholy, and frightening rumble of a chuckle from behind that mask, yet the composure was unaltered.

"I never thought to believe such a proud, hedonistic, individual such as you would ever refer to yourself as a 'little girl'."

Korra lurched back, visibly offended by that remark. "H-H-How dare you call me that. You have no right. I am never self-centered, or-or-"

"Are you not?" His voice broke out more harshly, his stone cold eyes rattling her voice to mute. "Have you not used your title in occasions to gain some form of benefit? Have you not used your position as the avatar to claim glory you have yet to prove to deserve?"

Korra felt a strong sense of déjà vu. It was like talking to that Beifong Chief Police. She would try to defend herself, but when she stopped to think, she came to doubt even her own words. Yes, she did admit she used her title to gain _certain_ pleasures for her own gain. They were small—or, at least, she thought they were—there was that one time when she had no yuerons to pay, or that other time she intruded the council meetings to push them towards a swifter decision when she was too impatient to wait, but they were never meant to bring her any form of benefit . . . right?

"Your eyes prove my accusation correct. Not that there was any need. The evidence is clear in the past, and in the present," Amon continued, "You benders only seek to claim the luxuries non-benders worked for years to accomplish, yet your kind snatches it away without hesitation or concern for who are affected in the process. This impurity you spread will not go unpunished, and I will see to it that everyone in this city will attain the equality that should have been established long ago."

Korra tried to rip out of the bruising handling of her chin, then after, barked, "Some of us aren't like that!"

"You seem to be acting like one now. Like some beastly creature not getting their way, that has yet to be tamed." One firm hand grasped onto Korra's wet brown hair in a fond manner, petting her leisurely, then moving to the side of her face to twirl her dripping wet right ponytail. The way he was toying with her sickened her. The closeness of his body as she watched him crouch down in front of her bowing form, and the heat she could feel barely at her skin, inviting her to interlock with him and allow his prodding to continue, was too unbearable. But Korra, again, refused her own feelings and remained unresponsive to his touches. Amon continued to play with her hair until replacing it to her cheeks with both his hands. "However, I'm confident to the task of _domesticating _you. And since you insist in acting like a rabid animal, you will be treated as such."

"I'm not an animal."

"When you've proven your maturity, then feel free to call a request for a meeting with me. I await for the appropriate apology when you do, then after, I will passively relinquish these conditions."

Korra hissed. "I have nothing to apologize for! Especially to you. If anything, you owe _me_ an apology for cheating!"

"Now, now, avatar. No one likes a sore-loser." Korra's skin prickled at the porcelain touch of his mask as it pressed against her cheek, a form of kiss. "I especially." The touch of his mask burned her skin. And Korra couldn't help but feel that ache in her belly similar to their first encounter.

_Get away_

_Get away_

Korra wanted to rip from him at that point. The feeling this man made Korra feel were startling alluring, like a lullaby luring her to a false sense of security. She whimpered right there then, earning a smile behind that mask. Frantically, Korra tried to focus her mind on something else, like the uncontrollable shivers riding up and down her spine each time she felt his breath on her neck, or the fact that her hands were clenching the chains holding her upward for support.

_Where is this coming from?_

_No-stop it, get away._

Korra licked her dry lips desperately, thinking randomly how delicious that fried rice was. How she wished she had more, and how she could have snuck a few gulps of water from the hose.

Then her mind wondered what was behind that porcelain mask.

Slowly, curiously, in wonderment, her lips trailed along where the mask guarded where the cheek should have been, drifting closer to the gap that allowed his intoxicating breath to escape. Just a little closer, a little closer, under that mask, under that hood, where a man's feature were sure to be, where Korra would receive the answers for her bodily desires.

_Closer, closer, closer._

Amon slowly removed himself from Korra's personal space, unaffected in any visible way, leaving her once more for the second time, but this time was different. This time he was leaving her in turmoil of her own emotions and fears he caused her.

And Korra cursed herself for allowing her body to blind her from who this man was to her.

_He's my enemy. _

_And yet . . . _

"I'll be waiting for that apology, young Avatar Korra. Good night."

Her blue eyes watched after his back more carefully this time, leaving the drunken avatar with an aching pang in her chest in need to be satisfied and quenched.

Before the four guards entered her cell to administer more punctures to her failing body, Korra made a quick, fleeting prayer to the spirits above for her freedom she hoped was sure to come soon.

Before it's too late.

* * *

I hope this is satisfactory enough for now. I was gonna add another piece, but I later felt it uneccessary and out of character. And that reminds me, I do hope I've kept Amon's character in tact. Korra is so much easier with her awesom personality. I still have more to come in the mean time. So please bear with me.

Until then, you know what to do.

111

Please _review_!(They inspire me, teehee)


	3. Now You See Me

Alrighty, here. We. Go . . .

* * *

The guard took his time as he paced his way towards the mess hall. His walk was free and languid, his mind pondering numerous affairs to complete soon after this task, and allowed a smile to play upon his lips in secrecy under his visage. He himself, who normally strayed away from tardiness on any occasion, sat it against his moral to make an exception for this particular assignment. His arrival was sorely noticed, as he was the earliest, with the exception of two veterans seating far off from the cafeteria area minding their own business and gossips.

Keeping to the pace that he was in, the man procured a plate of food for himself then seated at the nearest space his eyes caught to enjoy his well deserved breakfast. He savored every taste, relished in the quiet peace, and mentally chastised himself for not taking advantage of such a wonderful moment to indulge his time with the literature given to him by his late father.

_Perhaps another time_, he thought.

When he finished, the man rose to return to the cafeteria counter to request the chef's presence.

He was received with a lazily—of similar torpid-like stature—smirking man of a few years older.

"Didn't expect you here this early," the man yawned, his smirk still the same. "You got something planned after this?"

"Hardly. I'm free of future activities until the late evening. And personally, I think I deserve it."

"Yeah, I guess so." The man's smiled at that, stretching out what was left of his sluggish demons to start the day. "Especially since you have to take care of our 'proud guest'. From all the stories I've been hearing, that girl's a handful. That right?"

"Excessively. I was overjoyed when Amon requested I take the morning shift off. He apologized for all the trouble. That was something I didn't expect since . . . you know . . . because of higher ranks."

"The avatar's attitude wasn't something _anyone_ expected. If memory served right about our previous avatar, it's hard to believe she's the reincarnation of the Great Avatar Aang."

"Believe me, I was just as surprised as the rest of the populace," he countered. "Hopefully that demonstration straightened her up, if not, then perhaps a little."

At the mention of what happened that night, the man edged over his counter in excitement. "Yeah I heard about that," he whispered excitedly. He eyed the two gossiping members warily before returning to his companion intensely. "Heard it was funny seeing that kid get what she deserved—and how Amon put her in her place—if not for ranks, myself, I would have shaken the guy's hand."

"Amon was clever at that. I myself enjoyed the show. As did everyone else."

"Goes to show being a spoiled bender doesn't get you everything you want."

The man's smile frowned at a fraction and contemplated for a moment. Though he agreed the avatar got what she deserved, he understood that if he were in the same situation he would have done the same as well. But he was not her, nor did he ever wish to be.

He bid farewell to his friend with a bowl of rice and cooked eggs and sausages in tow, then turned to leave.

"I'll be seeing you then, Ferkin," He heard over his shoulder. "Give our 'guest' my regards," the chef joked.

Ferkin strode off with the meal at a slightly faster pace to arrive without any such delays, though preferably he would have liked to enjoy the peaceful morning a little bit longer. Then again, he'll have the rest of the morning hours to indulge after this task.

He expected animalistic growling and profanity at his entrance. The avatar's constant fit never ceased since his temporary re-assignment to her charge, even when he and others in charge of monitoring her had to enforce their authority upon her to get her to stop, but to no avail. But this time Ferkin walked inside, his pace unchanged as if it were any other day, into a quiet dark cell encasing the silent young stubborn teenager inside.

He stopped a good feet away, watching with caution for any foul play as the girl remained unmoved by his presence.

Ferkin surmised the demonstration must have affected the avatar as Amon planned, as even Amon himself stated the demonstration was not only to enlighten his men disciplining the girl to a degree was appropriate—but also show the avatar her actions were nonetheless futile and unacceptable under their care.

He neared closer to the avatar with renewed confidence at that, hoping that was the case. "Rise and shine, bender," he commanded in monotone. "I have your usual. Un-poisoned and un-tampered. Courtesy of our chef."

No response.

"Freshly cooked eggs, two delicious sausages, with enough white rice to get the day going," he spoke again, with a little more enthusiasm for his own sake.

But, again, he was given no response. Not even a groan. Or an action of blunt ignorance.

Ferkin frowned. "I'll shove it down your throat like my superior did if you refuse. I have orders." He quickly stabbed the eggs with collected rice on top and inched it forward. "Open. Come on, I know you're hungry."

The dark-toned adolescent didn't so much as nudge away from the fork pushing past those dry lips for entry.

"Hey. . . are you even listening . . ."

As much as he hated the unending yelling and screaming, it was Ferkin's job to make sure the girl was well taken care of at all times. So Ferkin reached forward and patted the girl's cheek softly to get a response, the fork remaining where it was.

He patted her faced twice, "Hello? Bender?. . . Avatar?". . .Kima?—or Koral?. . ."

He lifted the face of the immobile body to the see the girl's overall state, and sat agape with wide fearful eyes.

". . . oh spirits, please don't ruin my day. This is not happening—HELP!" he cried over his shoulder, hoping someone heard him.

He started for her restraints and watched as the girl fell to the floor without a sound. Food carelessly discarded, Ferkin snatched the girl's arms and attempted to reanimate her in some way.

He was ready to resort to slapping the teenager awake until he was caught off guard by a small motion of her head rising to face him. Those same electric blue eyes he had grown accustomed to looked up to him blankly—then turned into a vicious, dark, and witty glare he knew all too well.

The next thing he could register in his state of confusion was a punch to the stomach, followed by another, until he couldn't take the pain anymore. He convulsed to the floor where he was given another blow to the head and knocked into a harsh unconsciousness, ruining what Ferkin thought could have been a relaxing, quiet, and a un-avatar-ruining Saturday.

Korra lifted herself up after successfully disabling the tall guard. She nudged him with her boot to be sure, then after, when it appeared that no one heard the man's cries for assistance, Korra took what little time she had to stretch.

"Stuff that rice down your shirt for all I care," Korra murmured to the man darkly as she raised her arm over her head then pulled at it with her other. "You no good equalist." She stuck out her tongue at the man before diverting her energy to her own needs.

Korra did a few squats and upper body stretching to get used to the soreness and the stinging bruises. She cracked her knuckles, and arched her back to exude the pops Korra was eagerly looking forward to. Oh, how she wished she could run and swim, anything just to get a good exercise and re-awaken the inactive muscles.

As much as Korra was glad her ruse had worked, her mind harbored doubt of it even working in the first place. And wherever she was being held was bound to have chi-blocking equalists everywhere, making Korra's escape plan all the more difficult on her part.

If she left as she was, Korra would surely be spotted, no matter how sneaky she can be. Not to mention her face will undoubtedly be recognized.

On top of that if she were to be caught, Korra feared the consequences to follow. . .

_But I won't get caught. I'll be careful._

Korra looked over her shoulder at the man, sizing him as she flipped him over with ease, smirked, and began to unbutton his suit as quickly as she could.

The guard's clothes did little to exploit her shortness after a quick redressal. With the exception of his boxers, Korra fitted herself as best as she could with all of the man's clothes, but to no avail. As muscular as Korra was, the pants had little to hang on due to the lack of curves at her hips. The muscles in her arms managed the sleeves exceptionally, but as uncomfortable as Korra felt under them, she denied the temptation to tear them off. The only thing that wasn't too big was the scarlet red scarf, the boots, and the coverings hiding her face. Even without a mirror, Korra knew she looked pathetic.

But to the naked eye, she was any other equalist, keeping to her own business.

Korra stepped out of her cell slowly, closing the cell door behind her silently before walking away into the lonely hallways.

_If I'm correct, they won't inspect my cell for several more hours. _

She managed her way around as best as she could, until she rounded a corner and stopped into a familiar hallway. To ease the anxiety in her chest, Korra joked with herself weakly to keep herself from overlooking her plan.

_I'll try again. I'll make a right this time._

Continuing onto a different direction, Korra quickened her pace, but found herself in the same spot again.

Korra spat at the wall. She tried again, this time going in the opposite direction. Not long after, when Korra walked confidently into another promising hallway, she ran into the same gloomy hallway with the nearly dried spit reflecting against the dim orange light.

"Wai-" Korra furrowed. "I sure I made a left. . . "

"Lost?"

Korra could have sworn her soul jumped out of her body. She turned around and faced an equalist looking at her oddly.

So many things crashed inside her brain. Should she knock him out and stuff him somewhere where no one will notice him for awhile? Was it possible—even without her bending? Can she even take the guy?

"Ugh. . . um . . . what?"

"I asked you if you were lost?" the equalist—a man, by the looks of it—repeated. "If you are, I can help. It's not a problem, especially when a fellow sister is in distress."

If it weren't for the mask, the man would have seen that Korra's face was still distorted in shock.

"What?"

"You know._ Sister_." He made for a gentle and reassuring gesture; Korra distress must have been that visible. "Oh, I get it. You must be one of the new recruits, right?"

"Oh." Korra managed in the midst of her panic. "Y-yes. I'm a new recruit."

"Okay. But why are you in the Detainment Wing?"

"Bathroom!" Korra blurted loudly before she knew it. The guy practically flinched. "I was at the bathroom and . . . got lost?"

"I knew it. Not a problem," The man shrugged. "Everyone gets lost sometime. Even I get lost, and I've been here dozens of times."

"And yet you're helping me?" Korra crossed her arms, gradually regaining composure. She couldn't put her faith in this guy, let alone trust him either.

"Hey! I got this. Now, follow me."

Korra's wrist was snatched and pulled after the equalist. She tugged and insisted it was unnecessary, but after it became obvious the man was determined to help Korra no matter how many times she refused, Korra gave in and silently followed. And just like that, Korra got herself an unwitting equalist guide.

For a while they walked in silence. The guy hummed an unintelligible tune from inside his helmet as they did, not noticing the strange look he was getting from the escaping avatar. Korra would look for other equalists in case she had to make a hasty getaway, but found fewer than she expected. One would pass by, and another she spotted much farther from the Detainment wing.

It didn't make sense to her? These people have the _avatar_ in the palm of their hands! There should be double security for spirits sake. From her party, Korra was insulted.

"Not big on security, are you guys?" she couldn't help but note aloud while keeping her temper from fuming. "I would have thought Amon to be the careful type," she spoke the name with as little hostility she could manage.

Especially after when he told Korra the extra steps he took to keep her from escaping. What a liar!

The guy was beaming at her comically. "Trust me, we are," she heard him smile. "It's just that right now some of our brothers and sisters are partaking the morning sessions for training. This_ is_ a training facility, after all."

A training facility. For chi-blocking equalists exclusively. Korra could not believe her luck, the spirits must have thought it was this avatar's turn to taunt and poke fun at.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah. Got to keep on my game, ya know. Speaking of which, when is your session?" the guy asked politely.

"I—uh—don't know."

"Spirits, you're pretty vague on things. Huh?—turn here."

They veered left into a wide open space that had light entering from the above window ceiling. There were three larger pathways, one of which lead to the mess hall.

"I am not!" Korra fumed at the comment. "I'm just not a morning person is all," she lied. She was definitely a morning person. She always woke up at four o'clock sharp to start conditioning and plyometric exercises before air-bending practice at five.

Two weeks of training and still no results, not even a measly ripple of air.

"I sure new recruits start at the usual time in the afternoon," the equalist remembered. "From what I remember, you guys move on to level two chi-blocking in offensives. Way better than the defensive moves, as helpful as they are. Brutal training though."

Korra had to sound interested. She was of course a new recruit eager to learn the art of chi-blocking. "Are the offensive attacks _that _difficult?"

"Sort of. You really need to be on the physically fit side for the offensives moves. Speed and accuracy count. _A lot_."

"I think I got it."

_Got the bruises to prove it, too._

"Hope so. Not only that, but this time you got Amon overseeing your training, too. And he does not go easy on anyone. So if you plan to constantly be forgetful, then you are going to have a lot of trouble, gal."

"I'm not forgetful! I'm just having a bad day."

_A very bad day._

"Alright, alright. Got quite the temper, you know," the guy kept at it. Korra was past caring whether he was aware of it or not of the negative effect, all she wanted was for the guy to stop making conversation with her and lead her somewhere she can use as means to escape from this training facility—or wherever the heck she was being held up in.

". . . kind of like the avatar we've detained."

Korra tensed. "I . . . didn't know the avatar was here."

"Yup. Newbies—or novices—are strictly prohibited from seeing her," he looked over his shoulder to her. Korra could feel him smiling at her smugly. ". . . _but I'm sure you already know_."

"Don't make me hurt you."

"Joking, _joking_—but anyway, only senior and junior veterans are allowed to see the avatar for matters. Like last night." Korra inwardly flinched at the mention of last night. "You probably heard already, but Amon really put the avatar in her place last night. I was there—I'm a junior veteran, of course. Got a full view of the demonstration. And boy, I would have been so_ humiliated_ if I were her."

Without thinking, Korra clenched her free hand instinctively. In Korra's head, she pictured engulfing the guy in a huge bubble of water and boiling him with her fire bending like an egg.

"I did feel kind of sorry for her—yes, she was practically begging to be punished, and yeah, we must pity the benders for their impurity—but she's . . . "

Korra's anger simmered . . . only a little. She watched after him until it became appropriate to press.

"She's?. . ."

The man's halt was so abrupt Korra nearly ran into him. "I don't know—the gal's cute. Especially for my tastes. I wonder when all of this is over, and equality is achieved, and Amon finally purifies her . . . if it's possible to . . . ask her out . . . "

The guy was getting all embarrassed for spilling his love interests to a complete stranger he just met several minutes ago, but Korra didn't know what to say. Or what to think, really. It was all a white blank in her brain.

An equalist had a fancy for her, and Korra couldn't believe it. Even from a guy like him.

_Yes. When the lunatic cleanses me of my defect, I'll be a changed follower and fall for the next guy that asks me out. Oh no, I won't be distraught for losing my bending. Spirits world, no._

The guy neared towards Korra personal space intensely without warning. Korra prayed the goggles kept her features from view; she couldn't bear any more embarrassing scars on her reputation, or this guy's. "Don't tell anyone though, okay? If anyone I knew heard this—or the avatar, even—I'll be so embarrassed." Korra gave the man a dumb look. But when it seemed the equalists was waiting for an answer, Korra really couldn't respond. She's never been in this type situation before. Ever. But looking back to the conducts of social interactions during her stay in Republic City, all Korra could predict to be the best response was giving the man a good pat on the pat. It worked.

". . . then again, I shouldn't have to worry about you. Your good at being forgetful, aren'tcha?"

Raising her arm back, Korra was going to send the man straight into the wall.

"Brother. Sister. Attention."

The two looked to the source in unison; Korra's arm still raised to administer a double dose of decency for men of all generations after this one. She could not believe her luck when she saw who was standing a few feet away—with three other equalists members behind him.

Fixing at his brow, the Lieutenant glared the two bickering equalists down with a somber attitude, irritated and past relaxed.

"What on earth are you doing, Tarko?"

"Sir," the man—Tarko—saluted. "I was assisting a fellow sister. She was lost, so I brought her here thinking we'd run into your group."

_Rats!_ Korra cursed. _Stupid gullible guy and his stupid random conversations. I should have made a bolt for it when I had a chance. And now, Spirits behold, I have to deal with this guy, too._

Behind her green goggles, Korra gave the second-in-command of Amon's cause the second dirtiest look she had. The first was being saved for a certain man with a porcelain visage.

The Lieutenant diverted his piercing stare to Korra this time. "And who are you, _girl_?"

The man was clearly fit in physicality. He took out Bolin and Mako with ease after their run-in after the Revelation, even Korra resorted to a sneak attack just to be on the safe side. Broad shoulders, intense focus with a lucid sharp sense of confidence to manage it, and a stare that rivaled Amon's—including his skills against a bender.

Korra chose a name carefully, and could only make out, "My name is—," until she was rudely interrupted by the Lieutenant.

"And why are your clothes inappropriately fitted?"

Automatically, Korra looked herself over. So did everyone else, even Tarko. Korra went red in the face, and was grateful she had the mask on to hide her embarrassment.

"Did you not give the tailor the correct measurements? Or are you so incompetent in such things that you need someone to hold your hand on a daily basis?" The sentence sounded more like an insult than it did a question. But that was the least of Korra's trouble as she was already devising future alternative on how to escape if she were to be caught right now. And it didn't seem her bending has returned yet.

With the kali-stick wielding second-in-command and four chi-blockers against her alone, Korra's hands were tied.

_First it was Mako's rejection. No airbending results no matter how much I trained. Then the kidnapping. The humiliation. No bending. I have to be the most **favored** avatar of all time._

"She's a new recruit, sir," Tarko rescued Korra when she was being cornered. That was the first time since their fateful acquaintance Korra truly felt grateful for the equalist's random interruption in her business. "It has become apparent since our exchange of pleasantries that she's pretty new to everything."

"That does not excuse her lack of dignity with her apparel. There are regulations. And as for recruitment, I never witnessed you leaving the vehicle with the recruits at my side."

The three equalists behind the tall Lieutenant stared after Korra curiously. Korra stared back and felt sweat running down the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry!" Korra bowed quickly. She tried to formulate a story—any story—no matter how preposterous it may sound, and yammered, "My sister—my younger—I—I—I mean my _older_ brother was supposed to bring me on time but we missed the arrival time! So she—he—brought me here himself, and I've been trying to look for the group and got lost!—You see I'm not a morning person—never have been—but that didn't mean it was my fault because my brother is so forgetful and sort of an air head—"

"Enough!"

Korra locked her lips closed and compressed them from ever shaming her again.

The Lieutenant gave Korra a stern look for the longest time before turning around, "This information no longer concerns me, nor does it carry an ounce of interest in any case. Follow me, but do not make the mistake again." The newly recruited equalists walked after the strict Lieutenant a few feet away. One of them took Korra's stunned form by the hand and helped her take one step at a time to follow them. All Korra could do was follow along obediently, but not before waving goodbye to Tarko accordingly for his assistance.

"And here we have the mess hall after training," the Lieutenant waved, continuing the tour despite the minor setback trailing after his this time. He looked to Korra, who nearly jumped to keep her attention on the mess hall like everyone else. "It is free for everyone at all time. We have two chefs for both day and night shifts, so food is provided regularly."

Korra could practically smell the cooked breakfast past those empty tables inside, the smells were so intoxicating it made Korra's mouth water in want.

The Lieutenant led them opposite from the mess hall through a larger passage to a vast area clearly designed for training. Korra couldn't have been more right, because the moment she placed a foot past the entryway, her ears caught loud grunting and yelling sounding from below the railing the group stopped at. She walked next to the only female equalist of the group and looked down to witness what could have been twenty equalists striking at invisible enemies using chi-blocking.

Panic burned like a burst of fire inside her stomach. Korra felt like she could throw up right now.

_I can't get caught. Not right now. Not here. Please don't let anyone notice I'm gone. Oh, please._

It was bad enough Amon's demonstration with Korra had already reached to every existing equalist. Now all she needed to further damage her dignity was to be caught right here in front of all of these people, and punished in a manner Korra hoped to never experience.

Korra felt a touch on her right shoulder as the female recruit switched Korra's attention to the Lieutenant.

"We train here three times a day, five days a week. As novices, you will be trained offensive tactics crucial against any kind of bending you will face in the near future. _Tardiness_ is unacceptable. "Korra knew that last part was meant for her. The sideways glance made it very clear, even to the other recruits. "Rest is necessary as we need our followers to be focused _at all times_. We will provide you the skills to defend yourself, but _you_ must provide _us_ your determination and commitment if we are to achieve equality. _Understood_?"

"I am sure they grasp the necessity, Lieutenant."

Everyone turned to face the voice speaking out to the overly punctilious Lieutenant. But Korra needn't be surprised; she remembered that particular tone of voice from anywhere. She was probably the only one out of the entire group of recruits who didn't stare at Amon slowly make his way up the stairs with pure hate.

His arms were in the usual position behind his back, erect in posture, and elegant with each movement he made with no apparent change to his mannerisms, as if time could not touch him. His mask tilted ever so slightly to Korra's direction when he finally stopped, moving to her in one graceful stride, placing both of his firm but gentle hands to her right arm to fix the sleeve before administering the same care to her left arm. His touch burned through the fabric and tickled Korra's skin. With great endurance Korra managed not to cry or whimper at his touch, as helpful it may be. When he was through, Korra stupidly moved her arms, and saw that the sleeves were affixed in a more comfortable, less demeaning fashion. Korra bowed quickly to keep up with her fake employment, keeping her eyes to his feet, refusing to look into those hardened eyes, and nearly gasped when she felt a pat on her head then after the warmth of his hand resting on her shoulder, though his gaze was fixated to the rest of the recruits instead of just her now.

"Apologies for my tardiness."

Lieutenant crossed his arms. "Some nerve," he grumbled, "even after _you_ established those functions."

"I cannot control the occurrences of the unexpected intervals life befalls me, otherwise I would have arrived on time."

The recruits turned to the Lieutenant. Korra stared stupidly, too.

"A man of many liberties, but few infallibilities."

They stared back to Amon. Korra couldn't believe her eyes.

_They're not really . . ._

"I've proven my consistency to the letter on multiple antecedent occurrences."

"Hardly," his second-in-command huffed.

Amon made for a really small shrug. "I recall numerous opportunities in which I have."

"How amusing. I do not."

_They were! _

"Well I have."

"Then if you could be kind as to enlighten me—and you two, stop that!"

Looking to the two men the Lieutenant was pointing at, Korra caught notice the two exchanging coins. The shorter of the two swiftly snatched the betting contents out of the other's retreating palm and stuffed them inside his pocket.

Despite the situation and the ominous hand still rested on her frozen shoulder, Korra couldn't help herself but give the lifted atmosphere a wry grin.

"Come now, old friend. Must we continue—or shall we continue the tour as scheduled. I'm sure our new brothers and sisters do."

Korra felt hot in her suit as time was running out until anyone would notice the avatar has gone missing, and started counting to ten in order to keep her cool. She just wanted to go home. Was that so much to ask for?

The Lieutenant exhaled heavily to concede, but from the look he was giving his superior it was clear the matter was not truly settled until a victory was established.

The Lieutenant waved towards the ever-so-curious recruits. "Proceed."

With his second's approval, Amon tended to the recruits. Korra looked him over closeley; his eyes were now of a softer intention, affectionate even. Does he even realize who he's looking at right now? "Fellow brothers and sisters," the mask spoke at last. "I admit my previous engagements proved far more overwhelming than I could have anticipated." A cough sounded from the direction of his lieutenant. Amon ignored him. "Nevertheless, as my faithful Lieutenant explained previously, equality can only be achieved so long as we work together." Korra felt her shoulder gently pulled closer to Amon as he walked the group from the current training session and back to their previous location. "I myself place my faith in each brother and sister who follow me against the oppressors we are forced to accept. I do hope you all enjoyed the tour. We will begin our first lesson at the time scheduled tomorrow as planned."

Gesturing for the recruits to leave, Korra assumed they were to be left somewhere to themselves where Korra would hopefully feint going to the bathroom once more then make for an escape.

Her plans were foiled by the hand on her shoulder holding her in place.

Amon stepped in front of Korra, blocking her escape path. She was so close to him, and not a second went by without Korra frantically thinking numerous thoughts on how Amon could easily disable and reveal her identity for all to bear witness to.

"If you don't mind, little one," he asked politely. It was weird. "I know a man who can fix your suit. Follow me, if you please."

_No!_

Korra desperately wanted to tell him no. But she couldn't risk it. How ever long either of them have known each other, he would surely notice her voice. So Korra followed after him robotically, forcing every fiber of her being not to disobey for now and keep to the obedient equalist persona. Personally she didn't want to go anywhere with this man, she would rather bite her own arms off if that were the case. And the second he would leave her company she will escape without a second thought. And she'll never stop running until she made it to the safety of Air Bender Island where she could be protected by Tenzin in his gentle hug like that time before.

Korra concentrated on his feet silently, thinking of numerous ways striking this man down once and for all, to occupy her failing resilience. Their footsteps were the only audible sounds through the corridors, as neither spoke a single word to one another. Korra heard the beating of her heart in her ears as the silence grew more intense making her more restless and anxious to be away from him.

_If I had my bending, I would finish you off right here, Amon. And you would be none the wiser, you garbage._

Reaching a door at the end of corridor, Amon stepped aside and waved to the door.

"Enter."

As Korra could detect no physical apparant danger the mysterious man portrayed, nor sense a malevolence his aura usually withheld, she proceed beyond the door and into a room. The room was occupied with a table to the right with a map of against the wall, farther back Korra saw a desk with paperwork, a radio, and a lit lamp. But no tailor. She could smell a frangrance unknown to her memory at the moment. She crinkled her nose from the intrusive odor.

"It is nearly lunch hours." That unearthly voice noted.

Korra nodded. Not that she knew when it was lunch. She had that guard to monitor the time based on his visitations.

"You must be hungry, young avatar."

Korra frowned.

"I'm not hungry—"

Korra lost her breath instantly, her eyes widened in horror as the room's quaint temperament it exuded from her thoughts dissolved into something more sinister.

_Click!_

Korra whipped round in the midst of her inner strife for her own misguidance, only to witness Amon's hand locking the door, and in one swift decisive movement he was right in front of Korra. Her mind registered his fingers plunging into her chi, ripping it, toying with it, until it faded from her grasp and Korra wanted nothing more than for the darkness unconsciousness always offered. Korra's arms refused to obey her commands and remained limp at her sides as Amon palsied her body.

Amon drew nearer the weakened Korra, cupping both sides of the mask carefully as if handling a porcelain doll, proceeding to lift it from her neck as the ill-cared-for chocolate hair spilled out and revealed the dark-skinned face of the adolescent. Korra's eyes glued to Amon and flinched if ever he made a provoking action to her. The back of her neck, as sweaty as it already was from the heat of the discarded mask, chilled down her spine from exposure. A scream was working its way up her throat as the man who wielded the string that was her fate made himself more menacing against the only source of light in the room without the smallest hint of trying.

This man was that frightening to Korra. Never before in her life, not even after taking on the gangsters by herself, did Korra ever felt true fear from anyone.

_He's not human. _

Korra lost count how many times she came to terms with that proclamation. It was only after the incident under the monument of her late life did that sentence birthed itself out of her mouth and forever derail the balance of her inner tranquility.

Seconds were nonexistent as it felt like an eternity before either party mobiled to action.

Amon was the first.

"I cannot help but compliment you for your determination. I admire that. Truly, I do."

"I do not care what you think of me," Korra breathed heavily after, trying to keep her cool but failing miserably.

"I think you do." He played with her hair, twirling it with utmost care, then retracting it with a fleeting delicate and rubbed the pads of his fingers to get rid of the hair's grease. He looked to his hand with a moment of disdain, and without looking to Korra fully as he normally did, who froze at the first touch of his hand, he spoke, "You need to take better care of yourself, young one. It is uncustomary for a lady to mistreat herself so carelessly, especially one of natural radiance such as you."

As he spoke, Korra couldn't help but dumbly blink.

_Did he just call me . . . _

Korra tried to speak out, but could not find the proper words to expel her thoughts adequately. Instead she lowered her gaze to the ground.

Amon rose from his crouch without a sound, walking past the frozen Water-tribe immigrant without so much as a sideways glance, and seated himself behind his desk and worked his mind through the papers.

"Rise and stand beside me once you're finished familiarizing yourself with the floor. It's oak if that is what you are interested in."

Korra blushed at that last part and released a soft sigh to expel her anxiety before rising to her feet once the feeling returned. With her back to him, and from such a distance, Korra made a small movement to desperately watch for a lick of fire to birth from the palm of her hand. The action proved vain as even Korra knew better than to lie to herself and further ruin her determination.

"My patience can go so far, young avatar. As well as my wrath."

Korra flinched, and remembered that Amon could punish her any way he felt according to the gravity of her defiance. It was with that notion that Korra found herself turning around and walking step after step and halt right next to Amon.

He didn't pay her any heed when she obeyed; scribbling a messy mark into a sheet and distributing various other papers the same kind of care. After inking the last of his papers, Korra could hear Amon give into one controlled breath and at last turn towards her area. She could feel his eyes wander as she displayed herself in front of him in her vulnerable state, and fearfully let out a cry when his hand snatched her closer to him. Korra wished he had let her keep on the mask as her cheeks burned a bright blush of embarrassment and unnatural excitement. His hand roamed like a snake from her wrist to above her elbow, squeezing lightly, then taking it with his other hand to prod her arm.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Korra couldn't help but ask.

"Measuring the length," he said simply, continuing without pause.

Korra pulled at her arm. "Unhand me. Let me go." By tugging away, Korra was immediately jerked back with such force it nearly popped her arm out of its socket.

"Stop moving and this will end sooner. Fidgeting will only prolong the process."

Too drunk in her own bodily excitement, Korra stupidly mumbled, "I . . . I don't need new clothes . . . if that is what you are planning. I like my old ones."

"Those Water Tribe _'clothes'_ you refer to are nothing more than tattered rags now. The colors are faded, and I will not have our personal tailor demean himself restoring Water Bending apparels. More importantly, as your stay here is nonetheless perminent, you will will wear what I give you."

"Then I'll fix them myself if that is what it will take."

"You will do no such thing."

"You can't dictate what I can and cannot do."

But another jerk to keep her in place proved Korra wrong, and helplessly permitted this dangerous criminal to lay his hands on her body. She heard him smile smugly from beneath that horrible mask, and inwardly cursed his name. He concentrated to her hips, pinching at the spare length. When he was satisfied, he made his ways to her waist and felt around to get a good idea of the rest of her measurements.

As he carried about with his pinching and prodding, Korra was in turmoil against her own body. The moment he placed his bare hands on her hips Korra's body convulsed with tingling waves that made her legs shiver and her stomach ache. She didn't want to be touched by this man, especially Amon.

Hoping to occupy herself to anything but the funny feelings tickling below her belly, Korra decided to ask the question she had been meaning to ask Amon since her foiled escape attempt. "How did you know it was me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were properly eating. Imagine my surprise when I saw the wrong resident in that cell." He spoke it so relaxed, and with such amusement that the anger could hardly be distinguished. "After Ferkins explained to me what happened, I thought it best to keep the situation discreet as I know all too well that you would commit to something dramatic. And it was such a pleasant morning, it was a shame you had to ruin it all. I decided to give Ferkins the rest of the day off just because of that." He pulled her closer and leveled their mutual eye contact, but from Korra's perception the shrouded features the lamp shadowed over Amon's mask only made her smaller. "You will apologize to the man for your misbehavior. And you _will_ be humble."

Korra didn't know what came over her, but found herself mouthing, "Really. Is that _all _I get for my punishment?"

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid . . ._

"If it concerns you so greatly, then you can apologize to every faction of this facility for your careless disruption."

"I have_ nothing_ to be sorry for. You hear me. _Nothing_!" Korra spat his way, allowing her anger to lead her words, failing to take notice to the tightened grip on her arm. "If anything, its you people who should be apologizing to me for everything you're putting me through—"

Without warning, and with an inhuman nearly motionless dexterity, Korra found herself thrown over the desk, a firm rough hand squeezing her windpipes. Frantically, Korra clawed at the intruding hand and gasped out desperately for air. She tried kicking when prying Amon's hand off her neck proved futile, but Amon remained unmoving by her squirming, and started hovering over her form as he spread her legs apart with his other hand, effectively out Korra's kicking range.

"A-Amon," she managed to choke. "I-I can't . . . "

She thought he would let go, but his mask dropped to the point her forehead was touching the red mark of porcelain. Those once phlegmatic orbs behind the slit holes now became a fury of tyrannical hate.

"_You have everything to be sorry for_."

His grip tightened, and Korra was beginning to see stars. As life was leaving her body, so did her strength as her legs slowly but surely went limp and her cries for mercy whispered to rasping for air. Just when she thought he was going to actually end her life for her previous comment, her neck was freed and gulps of air made its way into her lungs. Korra coughed and shook violently out of fear. She continued to shake, even as she was dazed and disoriented, when she realized how much Amon was close to her. Inappropriately. She began to panic, and, unable to think properly for fear of dying in this place, she tried to slap him or inflict any other form of harm to get the man off her. She got at least one pitiful punch into his hard chest before it was collected with her other wrist into another vice grip and restrained over her head.

"Get off me!"

Her mouth was clamped shut by his hand and lifted off the desk only to be slammed back to stop her talking. Korra groggily tried to keep her focus on Amon's expression, which still did not change from visible animosity. If it was true his face was truly deformed from under that mask, then she was positive it was twice as frightening compared to the mask keeping her from seeing it completely.

Korra watched helplessly as she felt his free hand roam over the fabric of her clothings—and stopped at her right breast to squeeze it hard and rub it with his thumb slowly. Korra shivered and tried to bite his hand off her mouth, but succeeded in drooling in the palm of his hand.

"You think you're the only one who's ever been humiliated in this world. Most of my followers were forced to humiliate _themselves_ in ways you can never imagine. Men forced to watch loved ones burned to death and then forced to humor over it after. Women used repeatedly in the open. All because of the twisted delight your kind harbors for us non-benders. So yes, you do have a crime to apologize for. You have dozens of crimes to apologize for."

**_Liar!_**

He was just saying that to make her feel bad. Korra tried to repeat what she told him after his demonstration in front all of his men, but his hand refused her to speak.

"Don't think I don't know about your teammates. They themselves sullied the lives of others for their own selfish gain when they associated with the likes of the Triple Threat criminals. And I'm sure the council members are just as corrupt—especially that filthy poisonous sham Tarrlok."

She'll admit, that Tarrlok always seemed like he was up to something. But as for Mako and Bolin, they were only doing what they could to survive in the streets. They had no one to look after them after what happened to their parents. And yet they, too, must be punished even though they suffered enough? Even Mako, who witnessed with his own eyes the deaths of his parents? No.

Amon proceeded to unbutton her coat and expose her bare chest out in the natural elements the room possessed, cutting off Korra's small trail of thought, and started thrashing about. Still in possession of her arms, Amon's hand made its way towards her chest. He stopped momentarily for a second, perhaps unsure, before continuing.

Korra scrunched her eyes shut and prepared for the worst.

_No. NO. **NO!**_

A tiny prickle tickled the skin over Korra's vulnerable sternum as she felt the fingernail glide over to her left breast, and palmed her left breast, rubbing over the sensitive nipple until it riped and hardened.

Korra moaned at the unfamiliar touching.

She had never been touched like this before. She never went that far with anyone before.

"Enjoying ourselves." Korra felt a hot breath caressing over her bare breast, exciting her to goosebumps and hypnotized her limps to still. ". . . aren't we?"

Was he really asking her? Korra was too delirious in her own sensations to tell anymore.

"N-n-no. . . "

"I see evidence proving otherwise."

Korra couldn't take it anymore. She was burning too much to bear. Her insides were on fire, her legs were melting in their boots, and her nether region was sore against something hard and penetrating. Korra whimpered, begged for this nightmare to end. "P-p-please . . . stop!" she moaned aloud when she felt the back of his hand brush against the fabric protecting her private area. He rubbed over the fabric and began to fumble with the belts keeping him from further molesting her. "No! Please! No more! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying to escape, just please stop! I'll apologize to the man, I swear. I won't argue!"

_Enough of this! The way he makes me feel . . . I want it to stop!_

The very hand that had Korra drowning in her dark desires stopped its actions. Amon lifted his weight from Korra's body, enjoying the display he caused from the Water Tribe teen. Korra could do nothing else and close her eyes away from looking at her own shameful state, or even moving her arms over her exposed nakedness.

"I'm pleased to hear that." He pulled her to her feet off the desk, but placed his arms on either side of the desk, entrapping her, moving closer to the shrinking avatar. His hands were at her again and pulled her torn top down. "But make no mistake, young avatar. I will _not_ stop the next time you try anything again. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Korra answered, shivering even after Amon finished rebuttoning her stolen coat.

"Excellent. Now I have important matters I feel necessary for you to hear."

Korra wasn't sure if she wanted to listen. What she really wanted was to get as far away from this man as possible.

"Due to an unfortunate turn of events, we must relocate to a different, more secluded facility. We will be leaving tonight." His voice became harsher. "And you will go without a fuss."

Korra nodded in a quick fearful response, still in shock.

"Perfect. That settled, let us pay a visit to the owner of those garments."

Amon grabbed the still shaken reincarnated avatar's shoulders and led her outside. Korra crossed her arms over her chest, still feeling the exposure and burns that were still there.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run.

But all she could do was follow this madman obediently to wherever this _Ferkin _was.

* * *

Personal Thoughts:

This chapter went through alot of re-thinking and re-typing. I wanted to keep to the characters as best as I could, especially with Korra being felt up. Another thing was the Lieutenant's and Amon's interaction with one another. That, to me, was a big risk. So, if at all possible-especially from my perspective-I do hope I've been keeping to the characters.

Another thing was the new fabricated characters such as Tarko and Ferkins. Personally, I'm not big on making characters unless it connects the main haracters in some way. Especially with Korra now in Equalist hands, it's only natural she'll come in contact with some of them and hopefully make a connection in the near-future. New characters have be familiarized right away in their first appearance just to get a good idea what kind of person they are. So at that, I hope I didn't ruin this story by doing that.

Hope this is satisfactory to your Amorra desires. More to come in the next chapter with a much more (hopefully intense, if my morales can stand for it) M moment to satisfy those dark Amorra desires. Until then you know what to do.

111

Please Review!


	4. On the Road

I just want to thank you all for all the reviews. They've been nothing but a big support and a huge pat on the back for all my work put into this.

Seriously you guy thank you so much, and much more for letting me know I'm not the only loving this pairing.

Enjoy :D!

* * *

Ferkin—who Korra was to refer to when presented to him—was sitting in a chair with a bag of ice over his head, fortunately, in a new pair of clothes, at the time when Korra and Amon paid him a very surprising visitation in his rather small, yet warming, quarters. From the way he was looking at her—especially when she was still wearing _his_ clothes—the daggers in his glare were so sharp she practically felt their cut through her soul.

Amon greeted the man kindly, putting on a cordial air. Ferkin, in turn, did the same, with more difficulty.

As she watched the man attempt to stand—even after Amon insisted him not to—Korra failed to notice until now how extravagantly tall the man was until he finally stood erect. He could have probably been taller than Amon. Aside from the height he was also a character of a handsome demeanor with the blooming red hair in similar uniqueness. With a face like that, this man would have no problem looking spiffy in a suit than in the clothes Korra was currently accommodating.

"Our sojourner has something she needs to say to you, Ferkin." Amon moved Korra an inch closer to Ferkin with a rather gentle push to her back. "It won't take too long. The young avatar has been instructed to fully express her penitence for her previous rudeness."

The man nodded once; face brimming with dubiety, as he turned down to the imposition that was his pro tempore assignment.

If under different circumstances, if any, at all, Korra would still not know where to begin with her _penitence_. Korra's own mother spent every ounce of her energy to teach her daughter the importance of being courteous and polite to everyone. If Korra made a mess in her room, she would clean up soon after if it displeased her mother. If she were to curse, she corrected herself. And if she were rude—an attention Korra's mother approached more sternly due to her stubborn personality—Korra was to apologize immediately.

But this guy was an equalist follower.

One of many keeping her restricted from outside contact.

And every time Korra made for an apology to formulate past her lips, she was stumped soon after the reminder crossed her mind.

The awkwardness in the room didn't help either. Both the guard and Amon were waiting for Korra to speak. And as if that weren't the only aura looming inside the room, then the animosity the man constantly held against Korra and Amon's initial spiritless disposition thickened the atmosphere more so.

"Speak, Korra."

Under pressure, Korra's first attempt was rushed, and as predicted, Amon wasn't pleased in the least. He told her to apologize again until he was satisfied.

Her second try _was too simple_.

Her third try was vague.

When Korra was beginning to think all of this was just to lower her dignity to the ground after finishing her fourth apology—another _rehabilitation method_ to put her in place, she thought with distastefulness—she was surprised whence Amon uttered his approval to _mildly satisfactory_. Korra didn't care, though. Far from it, she was relieved. She couldn't stand the guard's stare anymore; her fists were practically shaking to inflict harm upon the other two occupants in the room for their detachments and lack of emotions.

"I accept the avatar's apology," was what Korra begrudgingly received despite the visible difficulty it took her to finish. She didn't dare look up to the man fully, on that note, for fear her anger will blind her into an uncontrollable rampage that will surely summon another punishment for her disobedience.

"Very good. Accept his forgiveness, young avatar."

_Oh come on!_

Korra threw Amon's way a pleading glance only to be given a fierce dark stare, and a firm grip on the shoulder, to continue. Huffing, Korra breathed through gritted teeth, ". . . thank you . . . Mister Ferkin."

"Very good. . . " The hold on her shoulder softened for her compliance, wandering to her back to rub over her left shoulder blade. Korra winced as the thumb added pressure to her back as it circled a relaxing massage, teasing her, yet reminding her of her situation. "You see, young avatar. We all are not completely without clemency."

Korra felt otherwise.

_Who exactly do you speak of?_

So far the people in charge of her were anything but kind for her stay in their headquarters. And as for Amon, Korra could never see him as anyone else without the anger he openly displayed for benders in general. So, no. Clemency never once passed for a reasonable trait amongst Amon's henchmen, or him, either.

Korra was pushed out the door, followed by Amon and the red-haired man as well, heading in a direction she did not know. But that was short lived until Korra could smell the distinct haunting aroma of cooked beef—or, even better, pork—and other sorts of goodness that was causing Korra's mouth to drool and her stomach to ache.

Amon must have smelled it, too, as he started speaking to Ferkin casually, "Jarro must have made something special for us," he noted.

"I've been meaning to ask the man myself what he planned for tonight," the other spoke as he walked up behind Korra to her right. "I will say I am going to miss the man's cooking, especially after we leave tonight."

"I confess my feelings are the same. Even the Lieutenant openly declared his taste for the man's cooking."

As the two spoke to one another, everything said after was left unheard from Korra's attention span.

Dumplings. Pork. Food. Food.

Korra's mind wandered to the numerous possibilities of what lied ahead. She couldn't remember the last time she ever smelled something so good, so enticing, and just at finger's grasp.

Her stomach growled as if it had a conscience of its own. Embarrassed and betrayed by the hunger, Korra made to silence her stomach by covering it with her hands, but it was too late. Two pairs of eyes were already darting her way.

And the one voice Korra didn't want to hear the most had to be the one to speak first.

"We are almost there, young avatar. You shall eat soon enough."

"I'm not hungry," Korra stated firmly. She crossed her arms to further solidify her statement.

She heard Amon's eyes narrow. "You will eat whether you wish to or not." He murmured coolly, saying it as a matter of fact. "In the matter of nutrition, this will not be up for debate."

"I'm not going to eat, and you won't force me under pressure this time."

"We shall see."

"It's your own fault, you know?" _Oh, delightful._ Korra's face scrunched as the red-head continued to speak even after Korra gave the man no indication of acknowledgement. "If you ate properly, you wouldn't be in this kind of situation."

"_Thank you_ for clarifying that, _Ferkin_," she spat the intruding debater's name lowly, but regretted it after for letting him get under her skin.

"Eating something will help that _nasty _personality, too."

"Maybe if you stopped eating greens, perhaps there's still hope for you before you end up touching the sky," Korra returned smoothly, then added, "_circus freak_," to spice up her counter insult.

The man growled at that. "You really are nothing but a savage, you know that?"

Korra tried to ripped around to send the man flying into the ceiling as she snapped her white teeth at the man, "I'll show you how savage I can be, you freak!" but was easily kept in the same direction by Amon.

"Enough, I will not have you ruin lunch as well, young avatar."

"As soon as the circus freak shuts his ugly mouth, I'll—" but another eruption of impatient growling and her insides eating themselves in a gut wrenching feast was what silenced Korra's ranting. The red head smirked, his expression smug the entire way to the wherever they were going. She even heard Amon's twisted smile behind his mask. But Korra refused him yet another victory with his little mind games. She will have to look away from the food if they tried anything funny. She'll stop smelling through her nose if that was what it will. Korra didn't want Amon to constantly defeat her on a daily basis. She was tired of permitting him the victor's satisfaction in making her smaller than he, breaking her composure without hesitation and yet refrain from physical aggression at the same time, and all awhile, as he freely roamed over her body as he previously did, appear unaffected unlike Korra, who was left on the desk table melting in his presence. And those eyes, glinting with an arrogance that really pissed Korra off. The desire to escape this captivity for the pleasuring luxuries freedom afforded had now become an obsession to Korra, blazing into an utmost priority while under the custody of this madman.

Past memory snippets of her father and mother waiting for their gifted daughter to return safely in their arms were some of the few memories that fueled her obsession. Korra wondered if they knew if she was captured. She knew her mother would surely grieve as any natural parent would, as well as her father. Like she, both would cry when they thought their tears would go unnoticed by Korra when she was little. Recounting to the number of occasions her parents ever cried for her if ever things were too advanced for their daughter to withstand and they could nothing to help her in her time of need and closure, Korra was always under the impression tears were meant to be hidden and contained, because if it caused such pain for others, then why should such a morbid expression be allowed to exist. Even so, Korra will see her family soon enough, so there was no need to shed tears. She hasn't, and will never, give up.

The three proceeded into the cafeteria to what Korra figured to be more than a dozen—twice, even—equalists eating and gossiping amongst themselves, until all eyes ripped from what they were doing and watched the three new occupants make their way for tables. Most looked for a while before continue where they left, while others took noticed to the ill-dressed equalist their superior was holding, on with Amon led Korra towards where the Lieutenant was sitting. The strict man was currently speaking to a fellow acquaintance until he caught sight of the two and acknowledged his commander graciously.

"Amon, sir."

"Lieutenant," Amon greeted kindly. He sat Korra between him and another follower. The man stared at Korra for a while, suspicious she was going to try something, but when it was clear she meant no harm at the moment, he returned his attention to the woman in front of him. Ferkin, having disappeared without Korra noticing, reappeared in a blink of the eye with not only a plate of food for himself but also a plate for Korra as well. He then sat between the man the Lieutenant previously conversed with and the woman after placing the plate of food in front of Korra. Korra couldn't help but foolishly look over the food longingly. She dropped her head into her chest, enduring the twist in her stomach, ignoring the glances and agonizing stares.

"Have the arrangements been completed?"

"Yes, sir. We will depart right on schedule," the Lieutenant addressed to Amon, "But I do not wish to deter your agenda, but I was informed of a construction blockage taking place in the northern sector even as we speak."

"For how long?"

"It was difficult to say. Seven standard hours, at best, probably. We will have to take the longer route if we are to venture through the streets undetected."

Amon wasn't bothered in the least. He was more worried about the Avatar's persistence in escaping than he was of public expulsion. "No matter. This is nothing more than a minor setback."

"It is not the only one, either. Ramul was just telling me of three Republic City officers making regular rounds through South street."

He permitted his face to a perturbed expression. "Strange. For what reason?" The authorities never dwelled too far in non-bender residential locations. It was the high-class that required more protection, especially, even, when most of them were benders that could fend for themselves.

This time the man the Lieutenant spoke with earlier started to speak. "It's that Tarrlok," he rasped. "The officials arrived at my aunt's bakery believing her to be involved in equalists rallies. She can't even walk without her cane, and they think she is a threat." His shoulders started to shake, trying very hard to keep his composure in front of his superior. "They've been keeping tabs on her since last Friday, by orders of councilmen Tarrlok."

As he consoled the young man, Amon was starting to re-evaluate the council's decisions becoming more radical and desperate—especially Tarrlok, and his exceeding growth in power. Ever since his first arrival in Republic city, there was not a time when Amon couldn't see the seeping fraudulence behind the politician's façade. Amon never paid the man mind, at first, as his followers were of so few, and he himself had not been in the non-bending public's favor until now. But, as the years went on, the Water-bending representative changed, his influence over the republic have become more extreme, even after the sudden public appearance of the avatar. Nevertheless, the mere thought of the water-bender being a threat never crossed Amon's mind, for he will be equalized soon enough, along with the rest of the benders inhabiting Republic city.

"If it is the longer route that is to be our only solution, then I hold no qualms for change," Amon said at last. "We will proceed as planned."

"Very good, sir. I will notify the others immediately."

"See to it that you do," Amon approved the readjustment in their plans, and once it was settled, the untouched plate of food failed to go by unnoticed as he was about to relax and enjoy the company of his brothers and sisters. His arms slouched only slightly at notice, his aggravation for the adolescence's stubbornness increasing the more she persisted to resist him. "Is there a problem, young avatar?" His demand was low and harsh, so as not to summon upon the entire occupants in the cafeteria to witness their superior scold the stubborn teenager once more, yet.

He received: "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm not hungry."

Tired, and past patience, and whether the Water Tribe teenager liked it or not, Amon was going to get her to eat one way or another, even if he has to have his members hold her down while he shoved the food down her throat.

"Eat."

"I don't want to."

"You_ are_ hungry. Very soon you will become fatigued and your body will expire if you continue. By that time, the only way we can get the nutrients into your system before it is too late is by hooking you up to tubes. Is that what you want?"

The avatar's muscular body went stiff, her fallen bangs shielding her from Amon's piercing stare. When he was about to tell another, more forceful, means of getting her to eat, she said, "No."

He moved the plate closer to her, then. "Then eat."

"No," she said, much sooner this time.

He moved his face to close the gap between them, the marble smoothness of his mask touched her earlobe as the avatar caught her breath from the surprising contact. His breath heating her cold ear rumbled waves of torturous feelings down the pit of Korra's stomach, she begged for spirits sake for him to get away from her before her whole face was consumed in red.

"Don't even think about doing anything rash, little one. I will not hesitate to discipline in front of everyone."

Korra struggled to contain her dwindling strength, struggling more to keep her eyes from breaking contact from furious glare inside that black hood. "B-but . . . I fine."

She felt his breath huff in exasperation in her face, his scent mesmerizing her senses, and crinkled her nose from the rather pleasant aroma.

His lips pressed against the porcelain discouraging physical contact. "I will bend you over my lap . . . _and I will strike your bottom like the child you are proving yourself to be_." At that notion, Korra could feel Amon's arms creep its way towards her. That same hand that violated her chest from before, the one that caused the sickly excitement within her into a complete mess. Korra shook violently in her suit in anticipation, ignoring the cruel and husky voice continuing to drawl. "Shall I have one of my men do it in my stead? Shall I permit them to laugh and take humor in your humiliation? Overall, this will provide as a benefit rehabilitation to teach your place amongst us all. Is that what you want?"

"No," she whispered, with more strength.

"Then I highly suggest you eat what was given to you."

Korra winced towards the plate in front of her, its contents that were still untouched was still giving off steam. Her arm rose hesitantly to leave her side, rising in slow succession towards her fork, but dropped just below it to the metal surface in defeat. As her mind started thinking to what she refused to do, her heart ripped in its place, painfully struggling to jump out of her chest.

Amon's jaw clenched from the avatar's insolence, unable to contain himself as he made a grab for the teenager's shoulder. He didn't care if she was wincing at his grip. She was bringing this all on herself. Amon had hoped she would eventually see that his cause was just and right, but it seemed whatever impressions the council and Republic City imprinted in her mind poisoned her to think him as the true enemy, when in turn, they were the true cause for the worlds imbalance. Amon knew now that he will have to cleanse her then, the hard way, if necessary.

Taking notice of his superior's distress, the Lieutenant stood from his seat and walked round towards the avatar to grab her fork, scoop up some rice and pieces of meat, then shoved the food towards the persistent girl's face, commanding, "Open." Half the members were staring curiously from their previous conversations to what caused for their second-in-command to assault the avatar, while others were still too engrossed in their food to care what the avatar was complaining about this time.

To everyone's utter, Korra permitted the utensil and made to chew the food, slowly, tasting the flavors melting in her mouth, savoring the taste as means to endure, then, with as much will power she could muster before she was too consumed for her hunger, Korra spat the food in no direction in particular. The mesh of wasted food and spit flew Ferkin's way; he narrowly dodged the shot by shifting his neck to the right even as he took another bite of the slice of chicken on his plate. Korra, then, catching the Lieutenant by surprise this time—an occurrence considered to be a rare moment amongst the recruits—snatched the utensil right out of his hand and flung the piece of metal across the room. Her sudden action caused for an ominous silence, except for the clatter of metal against the wall.

Those who witnessed the avatar's act began looking for Amon to do something, in anticipation, and darkly. They watched as their leader who sat next to the disrespectful bender continued to be quiet and unaffected by her actions. Eyes were growing wider; breaths were being contained, as the air grew intense and the seconds flew by as their commander and savior against all benders slowly turned his head to the reincarnated avatar, and was about to animate until a voice erupted from within the kitchen.

_"The heck is going on out there?"_

An equalist attired in a stained apron produced himself from the kitchen, looking around in confusion. But when the man caught sight of the dark-skinned teenager sitting next to Amon, his previous bewilderment quickly dispersed, mumbling, "Never mind," before making himself scarce.

After the random interruption, Amon at last mobilized by nearing closer to the avatar's pained face, his grip on her muscular arm still the same.

"I am permitting you _one last chance_ to redeem yourself." He could not help his voice from seething when he whispered in her ear. "Pick up the fork . . . or forfeit whatever shred of dignity you might still have." The ferocity in his voice told her enough where this could lead to if she didn't take the correct course of action.

Korra gulped. She frantically searched for the fork and shuddered to grab for the utensil and do as she was told. At least he wasn't going to punish her by forcing food down her throat this time. But Korra bit down on her bottom lip, feeling the pressure of gravity over her shoulders, and the staring. Korra just wanted them to stop staring at her and mind their own business.

_Stop looking at me. Don't make me regret this . . ._

When Amon was tired of waiting, he gave a fleeting gesture to his second-in-command. The Lieutenant lifted his arms and was about to grab at the back of Korra's neck—but halted when, as his gloved hand barely touched the stray hairs of the back of her neck, Korra's voice cracked out, "W-wait . . ." and furrowed her expression in defeat. Amon permitted her to move from her seat. Korra slowly lifted her body, which was ready to collapse on itself at any given time for what she was about to do. Carefully putting one foot in front of the other, Korra felt the nausea moisturizing over her frowning expression as she walked herself to stop where the utensil landed, crouched to collect it, and returned, with more ease this time, to stop at the edge of table where Amon sat patiently and slowly placed the fork in front of the man.

"Thank you. Now you may apologize for ruining lunch, now. You may begin when you are ready."

Korra's face went blank and pale. Her vision blurred from the stress of humiliation as she stared up to the rest of the people. She met glinting dark eyes smiling back at her, and few other stares that told her not all of them were actually enjoying the show.

Korra took the time to look over the equalists. They were people she never met before, or possibly ever conversed with before due to her status and schedule. So if she didn't know any of them, and they surely didn't really know who she really was, then why was Korra being cut through with cold and remorseless stares from all around? Some of these people were clearly older than her by many years. A part of her knew, though, that it was what she was that it was the reason for their hate, but it wasn't her fault. Her birth was entirely by fate, and not of her control. So why? Why?

_Why am I so hated by such people?_

Angered, and betrayed for things she never committed against these people, Korra cracked a snobbish smile that reached her ears, her eyes fairing against the rest of the people, challenging them to break her, to face her with all they have.

Korra finally spoke at last, fiercely.

"I'm _so_ sorry that the spirits thought you lot were unworthy to be blessed with the gifts of bending and that you idiotically placed your faith in this _lunatic._ Spirits help you all. You **_leeches_**!"

Amon jolted from his seat and roughly snatched Korra's mouth to prevent her from speaking further aspersions against him. He then wrapped his other arm around her waist and dragged her out of the cafeteria with the Lieutenant following after them at a distance. The flailing avatar continued to insult the people and scream in a fit under the man's hand as everyone stared after the restrained teen in stupor until she could not longer see them.

When Amon was certain they were out of ear shot, he stopped in his tracks once they passed through a door and entered a room, throwing Korra to the ground, and pointed for the Lieutenant.

"You may proceed."

Korra managed a glimpse through those slits to see the fury in Amon's cold eyes, before the pain burned at her nerves as the electricity began to lick and bite at her skin. She screamed, but she would not beg for it to stop, she would not beg for mercy this time. She coiled into a ball as the Lieutenant proceeded to enact her punishment in Amon's stead. Her eyes widened, her arms lowered to keep her body from exploding, and her throat was beginning to go sore from her cries with each blow.

"Stop."

The avatar wheezed and twitched when the stick removed its touch from her side, the aftershocks were still taking their time expelling from her body, until Korra felt the last of them scatter from the tips of her fingers. She couldn't move, and it was hard to breathe, so she lied there on the floor, limp.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Korra didn't respond, not that she could. She was still coughing and trying to control her ragged breathing, let alone wording words intelligibly, until her breath eased on its own, and Korra finally found her voice. "I . . . _will not_ . . . " she took another quick breath, "concede."

"You will, eventually. You may resist however many times you want, but keep in mind that this will not change my mind from keeping you here."

"Then take it." Korra breathed, past all this nonsense, politics, and, especially, the war. All she ever wanted was to see the city, leave that snow prison she once called a sanctuary, play pro-bending, make friends—_having fun_. It was too much for her now. She wanted to go home. "Take my bending, take it and let me go home."

"And turn you into a martyr? No, you will stay until you are no longer required to do so, as I said before."

"Then I'll find a way out. You can't keep track of me forever."

"Apparently I can," Amon could not help but break into a smug smile behind his mask. The man smoothed his features, quicker than Korra expected, until all traces of his anger dispersed. "Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

"I leave the avatar in your company for now. Remain here until we are set to leave. Do not underestimate her, and if she continues to behave unfavorably, I give you permission to discipline her."

"Understood, Amon."

Korra heard the calm steps depart from her side, then the closing of a door, but she stayed where she was, where it was safe, for now.

"Perfect. Now I'm stuck you. Had the man been anyone else, I would have declined."

Korra ignored the Lieutenant and his obnoxious voice, flipping to her stomach and made the decision to spend this moment to try to get some sleep before she had to do something else to further agitate Amon and escape. She was just happy Amon did not go through with his previous alternate punishment.

"Pathetic," he spat. "You are a bender, yet you lack the discipline and finesse of a true fighter. The spirits cursed your kind by granting the title of the avatar on your birthright."

"Shut your mouth," Korra forcibly grumbled under her arm. She clenched her eyes, hoping it would quicken the process so that she may sleep. "I'm trying to sleep."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Most certainly not mine, that's for sure."

"Oh really. Amon would have offered you a separate room had you been more reasonable in your situation. So no, little girl, it_ is_ your fault."

Korra punched into the ground hatefully as it had seemed to no end that the hate would follow her everywhere she went. "_Yes!_ It's my fault! **_Everything _**_is my fault!" _she yelled at the Liuetenant, ignoring the hand gripping his weapon, and the glare she was receiving. She was done, and she wanted to be left alone already. "All of the previous wars are my fault!_ All the pain you people suffered is my fault! Everything that happened _hundreds of years_ before I was even born is entirely **my fault**!" _Tears were stinging at Korra's tired eyes as she spat her words out to no end_. "_Now . . . can I _please _get some sleep before you maniacs keep me _further away from my **family**_? Is that so much to ask for?"

Before the man could answer, or punished her for her outburst, Korra flipped back to her stomach before she could study the man's shocked face, and whimpered, curling into her chest, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She didn't care about the pain, she was tired of the humiliation. All she wanted was to go home. Now.

The Lieutenant still said nothing, she still felt his eyes glued to her back, and when she felt him move, his eyes were no longer on her but to the wall, his back to her now. He started to speak:

"If you really want to survive this, then compliance is what it will take to ensure your freedom. If you can do so, then you will be returned to your family soon enough once this is all over."

The way he spoke surprised Korra. It sounded emotional and . . . mildly soft. Not a hint of hostility spilled from his lips, and, Korra couldn't help but believe him.

That was the last time he spoke to her while they were together, and thankfully, Korra was never disturbed when her eyes fluttered to close, and she finally got some decent sleep on the concrete floor. The smoothnesss was cold against her warm skin, ironically calming her nerves with its touch to relax and lay languidly passive. It didn't take long for her to sleep. It was so quiet and peaceful. She dreamt of flying bison's and delicious food, she dreamed of those smoothies her and Bolin treated themselves to when they were venturing the streets. And when she was getting to the part where she was dancing on clouds of marshmallows with the airbender kids, Korra was awoken by a rough shake. She reluctantly opened her eyes to the same sullen background of dim orange and darkness, no longer bright colors of blue and white, up to the Lieutenant now crouching next to her, his weapons safely clasped to the battery strapped to his back, giving her a stern expression.

Korra lazily scowled up to the Lieutenant. "I was gonna eat marshmallows . . . and you _ruined_ it," she whined, not caring how pathetic it was.

"What are you talking about? Get up. We are leaving now."

Korra pursed her lips, still feeling the after-effects of slumber, and went limp on the ground.

"Five more minutes."

"No. Get up."

"Three more minutes."

"You're acting like a four-year-old."

"Five more minutes?"

"I said no. Up."

When it was getting to the point words were getting him nowhere, the Lieutenant was left with no other option but to resentfully pick up the still-tired-avatar and walked out the door. He grumbled something out of earshot, struggling to open the door

"My, what a gentlemen," Korra couldn't help but snigger.

"Another word and I will drop you."

Korra shut her mouth only because she was still too lazy to walk on her own.

Beside her own breathing, and the sounds of the Lieutenant's footsteps made, Korra was enjoying what little peace she had left before everything hit rock bottom. Things had been nothing but loud and crazy since the day Korra was kidnapped and taken prisoner by these people, so she could never find the time when she was ever at peace in this place.

"We are here. I'm putting you down the second we're outside."

A cold welcoming breeze caressed Korra's cheek to blush and shiver, nipping at her drooping eyes to open to something she thought she would never see again.

Outside.

They were outside.

The air was fresh and free. And in the distance and from around, Korra saw the street lights illuminating through the dark blue of night, providing the metropolis a bright glory of perfection it withheld. She could make out the bustling of cars not too far away, and could smell the stores and the ocean just miles away from where she was. It was so beautiful, and painfully lovely. Korra wished to free, now more than ever, to be with her friends and family once more and share with them the beauty this city has.

Sensing the excitement in his charge, the Lieutenant sat Korra on the ground quickly, and then pushed her on her knees.

"Block her."

Two chi-blockers responded to the Lieutenants orders. Their stabs into her skin was what Korra's body, ironically, got her to finally wake up and become more aware on her surroundings. She groaned from their abuse, felt the bruises sore into her skin, and got to her feet at her own pace, lifting her head to watch Amon remove himself from a group and strode to where she and his Lieutenant stood. Despite her long absence from the outside world, the blue orbs that were her eyes were completely transfixed onto the masked man that walked toward them gracefully, the stain in the city that cannot be removed, a person who could very well be the undoing of its entire uniting existence.

Something warm wrapped around Korra whence the man was a foot away from where she was, feeling the soft expensive silk in the fabric, loose and hanging, until it tightened round her fit waist when Amon buttoned it nice and tight. The coat was, of course, as black as the night, camouflaging her existence under the darkness from unwanted eyes, and as comforting and shielding it was against the cold night air, Korra resented its ulterior purpose. When Amon raised his hand to pull over her hood, she snapped away, implicating that was as far as she would allow him to keep her hidden. His eyes frowned, but tamed.

"I hope the avatar wasn't a problem, Lieutenant."

"Manageable, to say the least, sir. The avatar was resting in your absence before I brought her."

"Interesting." Amon, amused by the avatar, looked to her now without tilting his head. "You slept well, I assume, young avatar?"

Korra grumbled, "I'm not going to make small talk with you," and narrowed.

Dejecting his concern, the rare softness in those eyes still did not fade, and Korra was patted on the head without warning.

"Don't fret. When we arrive, you will be able to sleep as much as you want."

"I'd rather sleep in my bed back on Air-Bender Island . . . than in a cell."

"Now, now, young avatar." His face twisted into something more menacing and resign, those eyes smiled at her, knowing Korra would never challenge him in front of all these people, not when she was not a fully realized avatar. "Remember what I said to you before. If you complicate these proceedings for me, or any of my followers, then I will not hold back enacting my hand against you. Do I make myself clear?" he demanded dangerously.

The intimidation in his voice worked better than he thought, as Korra swiftly nodded her head and stayed quiet, and, Amon hoped, for the rest of this trip.

"I will be in the first truck in lead, whereas you will be stationed in the second truck, safely guarded of course. And, as you may have heard already, which I assumed you did, our travel will transpire longer than intended. But, if you require anything, my brethren will assist you."

"Where are you taking me?" The avatar whispered quickly and looked at the trucks with eyes full of panic.

Amon spoke soothingly, coaxing her not to try anything now, knowing she will disobey him if she thought herself in more danger. "I don't think information like that should concern you—"

"It does," she snapped up at him. The muscular tone in her arms strained back, edging to express the emotional turmoil she was under. "I want to know where you are taking me!"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to."

Amon crossed his arms and couldn't keep from smiling under his mask, completely enamored by this girl. It was hard to keep track of her, first she was readable under his pressure, completely at his whim, and then, in an instant she became a fearless heroine. That was why he had hoped by the end of all this, and once he won over Republic city; he would have gained a powerful yet tamable supporter in his campaign.

She just needs to be pushed in the right direction.

And Amon knew it was his place to do so, which he will, without a seconds thought.

"If you really want to know, then tell me why, young avatar?" His voice came out much more excited than it needed to be. He quickly fixed that effortlessly and refreshed.

"Because I want to," she repeated herself, more urgently this time, as the trucks were nearly finished with help of the Lieutenant assisting the men.

"You'll have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid."

Korra's frown deepened, frustrated by this mysterious man's stubbornness. Why was he being so difficult? Was it so compromising for him to share with her this kind of information? Korra felt it wasn't, and to her it was his way of scaring her by not telling her where he will be keeping her. He already has her riled up at his fingers, so why go further?

Without thinking, Korra couldn't help but ask, "Is it really that hard for you?" she asked him. "Telling me where you are taking me can't possibly be that bad. I mean, you yourself said so that there is nothing I can to do to escape, right? Just tell me. Please, Amon?"

Korra compressed her lips as she quietly allowed Amon to look her over, trying to read her in some way, through her eyes perhaps, or her movements, looking for any deceptions that he would later regret. He found none. And when he spoke it came out with monotone reluctance. "We are moving under a bakery deep within downtown of Republic City. Far from police activity," he added to relinquish whatever hopes he failed to detect. "And far from City Hall. I do not want this to be more problematic than it already is."

"Problematic?" Korra snorted, but the urgency driving her voice didn't come out the way she wanted it to. "If you're so worried about having a problem, then let me go."

"I will do no such thing."

Her shoulder was once again contained by his firm hand. As dangerous as it was, his arm would send her hormones into a frenzy just from physical contact. She tried to keep a straight face, trying to hide the effects his touch already had on her, but in some way, some part of her, where she herself was unaware of, there lived a part of her that didn't care if he did. And it scared he to think it was okay.

He was the enemy. A terrorist. A person who would not tarnish his constitution with the likes of a bender, he was the kind that would take his own life rather than work with a bender even if it benefitted him greatly. That is why Korra knew that when at last, if it actually happened, when Amon would take her bending, he would be rid of her once and for all, and Korra will never have to be in the same room as him ever again.

"Come now, our ride is waiting for us."

She was led to the second car, hoisted up and into the back without resisting or so much as a word escaping her closed mouth. Her eyes were stuck to the ground, her body obedient and robotic as she sat in her seat while the guards temporarily responsible for her care sat opposite to her, possibly staring curiously at her, or, most likely, not that she care much for it anymore, with hate.

The sound of fists pounding against metal echoed inside the vehicle, alerting the driver to start the car and kick it into the correct gear, then Korra felt the usual oddly movement the automobile as it drove.

Korra listened to the sounds past the metal wall blocking her from the outside world. The burning of rubber on concrete floor, hurried footings of those making their way home or somewhere else, the laughter of children, laughing, followed by a chilling cut of the winds resisting the cars direction. She could hear horns honking, music from the restaurants or possibly night clubs, and she could make out with more distinction burning smoke from bakery food markets. It was hard to imagine being cut off from the city in such a way, Korra's only means to shield her heart from her own grief was to turn around and find something to occupy her mind, fast.

With nothing to do Korra looked to the two opposite guards for amusement. One was fidgeting in his suit, tugging on the red scarf to let in air, and readjusting his helmet and goggles every now and then. The other one was still staring at her warily, stiff, cautious, like she was about to combust into fire or explode. It was bugging her so bad, Korra grumbled at him, "There a problem?" and gave him a dirty look.

"I don't know," the guard hissed. "Will there be? I don't want to see a lick of fire or any other sort of bending crap while I'm with you."

"I'm already chi-blocked," she vainly reassured. "So you have nothing to be afraid about."

"Excuse me if I don't believe a bending scum like you."

"Look, whine however you want but I'm going to meditate, if that's not too much for you to handle?" She sat down in the middle of the car and assumed a normal position, "Wouldn't want you to wet your pants."

"He probably will when you start glowing like how they said the previous avatar did all the time," the other added in, unwittingly putting both his comrade and the avatar in worse spirits. The man sent the still fidgeting equalist a punch in the arm, whereas Korra, who was too engrossed in her own sulking, didn't care to take notice.

The previous avatar, Aang, was considered to be the most spirited avatar. And he was ten years old at the time. Korra was in the prime of her seventeenth year, and during the intervals of each passing wasted year, Korra never gave off a flicker of light. Year by year, as she got older, Korra became more wiser to the importance of the spiritual side of being the avatar, but, as always, she preferred the physical attributes that came with the title. The _fun_ attributes. Nevertheless, the White Lotus did what they could to hammer the wisdom of the spiritual rituals into Korra's head, but all in vain. She remembered at one point how she had sat in the middle of the snow meditation for six whole hours, wasting away, getting cold, all for nothing.

So, since Korra was captured, and in a major crisis, especially when she was currently in the hands of a terrorist, then perhaps she could finally make a connection with one of her previous lives.

And so she did. Remaining in her cross-legged sitting position, her hands placed over her knee caps in the meditative gesture, Korra settle her mind as best as she could while ignoring everything happening around her like she was taught, and tried to find something, anything, that would lead her to the spiritual world.

From the start of her training years, Korra was explained how the avatar was the bridge between this world and the spirit world. Maybe it was because she was more on the physical part than the spiritual part of being the avatar, or perhaps it was because she was not yet a fully realized avatar, either way, other than learning all natural elements in order, Korra was still a novice as to the spiritual tranquility of the avatar state.

But that didn't mean she was going to give any time soon.

Korra took in a deep, lanquid, breath. Regulating her breathing into calm, and tranquil, she let it go, her chest exhaling against the tight black cloat. She took in another breath, and released. Another, and released.

And just when she thought she got the hang of it, she was rudely interrupted.

"Are you glowing yet?"

Korra tried to repeat the procedure. "Only if I'm left alone."

The truck jumped up from the ground, it was so sudden Korra gave to a yelp and fell out of her position. She growled and tried to sit back to her original sitting arrangement.

"Shouldn't it be easy then," came that squeaky, curious, yet annoying voice.

Korra furrowed her brows. "Apparently not for me."

"That's a shame." The short one actually sounded sad.

"_Yeah, a **real** shame_-"

"Shut up, man. I wanna see her glow up."

"Don't be ridiculous. She tries anything funny, and we have orders to subdue her and report to Amon."

"You don't think I know that. I just want to see her go all avatar-state. That'd be cool to see."

"No, it's not."

"Sure it is, you're just too boring to know it is."

"I'm not boring, I'm mature."

"What are you trying to say? I'm not mature enough."

"Clearly."

"You know what, maybe if you didn't have that stick up your—"

"Quiet down, you two," the driver threw over her shoulder, ending what would have been a most unpleasant argument. Had she not stepped in, Korra would have. "For new recruits, you two sure are noisy."

Korra blinked, recalling the time before of her previous escape, and noticed the two guards right away. They were definite the two men from before, the ones betting from before.

"Mirri, I'm mature, right?"

The woman didn't answer. Turning the wheel, she made a steady turn to the right.

"Oh, screw you guys. I'm mature."

Even as the car was currently in motion, the short one rose from his seat and walked over to the end of the truck. He opened the back window and permitted the cold air to enter. Korra felt the breeze kiss her cheek, remembering how cold it was back at home with her mother and father.

"Fo, close the window."

"It's hot in here."

"And it is cold out there," the woman sneered. "I'm saying this one more time," she threatened. "Close the door. I hate that whistling sound open windows make when we're driving."

Fo whined. "And I hate heating up in this suit," he complained. "Seriously, it feels like a fire bender set me on fire."

"Fo! Stop complaining and sit down."

"No."

"Leave it open," Korra insisted. Right now having some nice cold air inside was refreshing against her skin.

"You don't have a say in this, bender."

"Yes, I do." Korra argued nastily. "I am a passenger, therefore, I have a say."

"No," said the man furiously, "You are a prisoner."

"Just leave the window open. It's not doing anyone any harm."

"Shut up, and do what you were doing before. Whatever it was you were doing was amusing me anyways."

Korra was offended by the guards attitude. Other than him being a non-bender, he had no right to speak to her in such a way. She was the avatar for crying out loud. And as much as a threat Amon was to the bending lineage, Korra was just the same for the non-benders. Of course, she would never inflict harm on any defenseless person, spirits no. Bu they didn't need to know that. And besides, there was always other ways to irritate her current captors.

Amon, who was, fortunately, not in the second vehicle with Korra, was sitting in the back with the Lieutenant, with several other senior officers in tow. The windows were cracked open for the fresh air to seep in, allowing the numerous scents of the cities ongoings to enter as well. A few members spoke to one another to defeat the silence, while others slept, though Amon didn't mind. He preferred his men to be comfortable, especially in his presence, which is why he made it a custom to partake the usual events with his men, whether it was eating, or practice, and, even driving through the downtown streets of Republic City.

"She better not be causing trouble back there. Are you certain leaving the avatar in the hands of two novices was the best idea, Amon?"

Amon gave his most trusted alley a reassuring glance.

"Mirri is a veteran, and has my complete faith handling the avatar."

Mirri, who was still driving the vehicle with ease, was forced to turn her head back every now, trying without crashing the car in the process to get the avatar from trying to expel her sickness in the middle of their car.

"Make her stop!"

Korra gave out to a gasp of air, giving out to sharp intakes of air as she imitated a perfect performance of what a normal person would do when they were trying to throw up. She coughed some more, then spat on the floor, and made a loud, disgusting, gagging reflex.

The other three occupants shuddered, and two of them were most likely going green in the face as they were already past the point where they threw their masks off to cover their mouths or ears.

Korra gagged, "I'm gonna—I . . . I—think—"

As she coughed and gagged loudly, Korra couldn't help but stifle a smile under her coat. She let out another, throat wrenching, convulsion, bending over to the floor for good measure.

"Take her outside! Someone do something!"

"Make her stop! Oh, spirits make her stop!"

"Fo, stop jumping around."

"I can't help it, I can't listen to this."

"Will someone **_please _**_make her stop_? I can't stop driving."

"Oh," Korra breathed heavily, covering her face with her hands, hiding the big smug smile from view. "I don't feel so good. The car's motion is making me feel . . . woozy."

"Mirri, how much longer before our arrival?"

"We still have a long way to go. We haven't even past the south bridge yet."

"Can we take her outside for awhile?"

"We can't. We will lose the car in front of us. I can't risk it."

Korra gave into another gagging reflex, spitting more saliva and getting the one they called Fo to start convulsing in his own sickness just by the sounds she was making. Even the woman was flinching and shivering from her imitations.

While the two guards in the back did not know what to do in this kind of situation, the car came to a complete stop.

"The bridge is rising for a passing ship. We may be here for awhile."

Korra settled for now, her hand slowly dropping from her mouth, spitting the last of her spare saliva onto the sullied metal flooring.

Everyone was calm, and for once, the car was silent as they all waited earnestly for the ship to hurry up and pass and they get to their new home.

"Are you okay? Keep your head up and put your hands over your head so that your lungs can get in more air."

Korra mentally smiled at that sentence, and made it appear that she was too weak to do so. "I'm gonna. . . I'm gonna throw—" she made it as if she finally threw up. But she wasn't the first to do so.

Fo never stopped watching her when she first started making out small coughs, but now he was gagging and tearing in the eye, and, as Korra wanted any of them to finally react, threw a little in his hand. He cried out and banged on the door. Mirri had no choice, she pooled over.

Fo would have jumped out the car whether it did or not. He ran off to the side of a deserted alleyway and vomited all over the concrete floor. The other was about to run after him as he yelled, "Not on the sidewalk," before he heard the rustling and loud movement, and without warning, while he himself was still sick in the stomach, his face came in contact with a boot. His nose crunched inside his face, it was broken, no question.

Korra leaped out and continued to send the man soaring into the air and on the floor far from where she was.

"Rumis!"

The woman jumped out the driver's seat just in time to see the escaped prisoner make her way to the opposite direction where Fo was still throwing up. And when Rumis and her ran after the avatar, Korra took them both by surprise by kicking up some dirt and soared into their faces. It burned into their eyelids, and Mirri was certain it was Rumis' who was howling in pain.

Korra stopped momentarily to see what damage she had done to the two equalists. That was a mistake.

She looked over to the car stopped in front of her transport, and saw Amon and a few other equalist behind him, watching back to where she was. As a gust of wind brushed through the scene, Korra was staring through the slits of that porcelain mask into those furious orbs. She remembered what took place that morning, what she could have lost had Amon not stopped, and what would have happened had she continued to escape from him. And right now, that was exactly what she was doing. But as she stared into those cold, and calculated eyes, she could see signs of repentance, a chance for her to stop what she was doing right now and allow herself to be restrained and avoid being punished.

She ran.

"Orders, Amon?"

Amon watched after Korra's back as she retreated into the alleyway. He was furious, more than furious, he was infuriated because of the avatar's insolence. This was the last straw. How dare she shame him in front of his men? The men who looked up to him for guidance from the cruelties of the benders. What would they think if their leader could not handle a mere teenager, ignoring the fact that she was the avatar? Amon would have none of that. He will capture her, and he will punish her to the full extent of his power.

"Capture the avatar at all cost. I want her alive, and I do not want her returned to me any other way."

He received a powerful, "_Yes, sir_!" from his men, and disengaged from his sight in a blink of an eye.

Korra ran down every alleyway she came across. Once, she reached a dead end, and had to double back quickly to continue down a different path. She didn't care where she was going, so long as there were people present so as to blend in—and keep the equalist following after her from doing anything dramatic to re-capture her. She turned another corner, and that was when she felt a strong, powerful, smack to her senses. She followed the scent attacking her nose, hearing more and more voices and the bustling of people as the smell grew stronger, and closer. Finally she reached an open-market place where there were more than hundreds of people currently selling and buying food and other artifacts of sorts such as necklaces and fabrics. Korra merged into the crowd trying to make herself less noticeable the deeper she ventured into the crowd, searching for people who could offer her safe haven or means to contact her friends to let them know where she was and that she was okay and she escape Amon. But there were so many people in one place that there was no need for Korra to keep her hood over her head as most of the merchants weren't paying her any concern as they walked or pushed past her. As Korra frantically continued searching for decent help, she managed a calm and collected composure for she was certain she was safe and that there was no way anyone noticed it was her.

Korra walked by a merchant, asking if he had seen Republic authorities or someone who could properly assist her. But the man gave her a questionable stare, so she left before he could give her away. She tried again in another market place, requesting a guarding child to bring her mother or father or whoever was running this section. A woman arrived this time, and told her if she wanted information then she had to buy something, but as it were, Korra had no money, so she was rejected from the place. It became clear now that no one was concerned about the problems of others and were too busy worrying about how much they can afford for things or making a profit.

_There has to be someone who can help me. Anyone._

Korra merged back into the crowd to continue searching, but as she was about to ask a fish merchant a series of questions without causing for suspicion, she caught sight of several equalists jumping their way over the towering building from above like acrobats. Korra bolted from the fish market and ran into the nearest open indoor store she could find, anywhere to hide for the time being. She hid inside a sweets store as it was practically the only indoor store with an open sign still plastered on the entrance door. The door jingled at her arrival, and was immediately greeted by a pudgy short man with a big goofy smile on his face. She begged him to use his phone if he had one as she was the missing avatar escaping from the equalists and currently on the run. The man calmed her down and told her to sit down and have some sweets if she wished. Korra sat down as the man disappeared into the back. She moved behind a lollipop stand and eyed outside the window to the ever growing crowd outside.

Korra had never seen an open-market before until she was certain for sure this was what it was. It was so amazing, and crowded. Maybe when she finally escaped, she can have Mako and Bolin—or just Mako—take her back here some other time to enjoy the thrill of buying unique items for cheap.

As the sounds of heaving footsteps made their way behind her, Korra turned to accept the phone the man promised her, but was stricken frozen solid when she turned around to face not only the pudgy owner of this delicious sweet stop—but also two equalists in uniform behind the man who was now pointing at her and telling them she was the avatar.

The two advanced upon her and commanded her to come quietly. Korra, of course, refused and pushed several stands of candy their way. As the owner cried out in despair for his fallen goods, the two equalists were caught off guard and fell over with sticky candy keeping them in place as Korra made yet another daring escape from her captors. She exited the shop and ran back into the crowd, this time dashing and zigzagging around the crowd, more determined now to find someone to find her in time before it was too late.

By now the air was so cold Korra could practically see her own breath, so she stopped to rub her shoulders to regain more heat into her body, as helpful the coat was, she will part with it nevertheless, for its previous purpose left Korra to look down at herself with disheartened disposition.

Korra continued down the open-market, struggling to find her way around the people, ignoring the curses thrown at her when she had to cut in front of them to keep at her steady and fast pace. There were cars passing, too, Korra was keeping special tabs on them, watching out for those black trucks containing equalists ready to ambush her and take her back to Amon where she would surely face the consequence for her actions.

_No. He will not catch me. I'll find someone. _

She thought back to what Amon said, and shuddered at the thought of him ever taking advantage of her. As horribly exciting his touches left her in, the man was someone she had to fight against to keep the peace in republic city. Granted, he was a man of elegance, and poised with a charismatic character, but he was also a deranged lunatic looking for some way to end all bending, no matter how cool it for the world. But what he did to her back in his office was completely out of the question. Not a moment went by Korra didn't feel the fear surging through her body even with the excitement driving her body to answer each touch. And she could still feel the burns of his touch, raking over her form, roaming places that were not to touch unless courted, until she had begged him to stop and ceased his torture upon her figure. She didn't want to go through that again, afraid that she would not beg him to stop, but to permit him to continue.

Through the bustling people and the honking vehicles trying to cut their way through the crowd, Korra made out a man clad in metal clothing with a wiring backpack strapped to his back, even the helmet was not hard to distinguish from the crowd. Korra did not hesitate to run towards the man, trying to call out to him to turn around.

When the man was about to turn around, perhaps hearing her pleas for him to help her, Korra ran into a figure cutting her path from the police man. She fell to the ground on her butt, and groaned to look up at the bastard who rudely got in her way.

Korra almost shrieked when she saw Ferkin looking at her with that same hate-filled glare he always gifted her. He was currently in a cloak, hiding his uniform from the public view, whether they were bothered by his looks or not.

"Come quietly, young avatar. Amon has sent me personally to send you a message if you surrender to me peacefully, then he will ignore your escape attempt and refrain from punishing you."

"I'm not sorry when I say I must turn down his offer. I'm going home."

Korra rose onto her feet with ease and assumed the normal stance of combat, ready to defeat this man to get to the police officer.

"I'm warning you, avatar. Don't be a fool—"

Three children of no more than a few years of age fabricated from the chaotic crowd with a box of sweets in their possessions. Looking up two strangers that were, to them, speaking to one another and nothing more, they revealed their offerings and asked if they would have liked to buy something. Neither party spoke, until Korra somberly told the children she had no money at the time—but was assisted by an unlikely individual. Ferkin produced two papers from within the confines of his cloak, accepted the candy, and thanked the children. In turn, the children laughed and smiled and thanked the man and woman for buying their products. While Ferkin was attempting to shoo the children away as passively as he could, Korra noticed his distress, thanked the children herself, and walked farther around to where the police officer was. She heard Ferkin cry out for her to stop, but Korra proceeded past him as if she did not hear him and hurried behind the police officer just in time before he could enter a vehicle and drive away from her.

Korra took one final look over her shoulder, and saw the space Ferkin has previous occupied had been engulfed in the crowd, and the children dispersed as well. She turned back and started tugging at the man, yelling at him to turn around. "Excuse me, police officer!"

The man hissed when he rounded to look at who was bugging him so late in the hour, and met blue desperate orbs, greasy chocolate hair, fair skin of an exotic dark tone, and a very alluring figure for a teenager to possess, very attractive, and very keen.

"What's botherin' you kid, I'm busy."

Korra ignored the small slurs his words would make, and confessed to him the situation she was in and that she was the avatar. As she told him what had happened before, the man's face twisted from lethargy to horror. He snatched her in his car, and drove out the crowd much more easily than most other cars Korra witnessed before, turning into a street a little ways apart from the havoc that was south street, and parked behind corner. The man began to ask her numerous questions and demanded to know if this were some kind of game.

"Look I've seen this before. You kids are always hopped up on sugar—or hooch—you better not be drunk! How old are you, anyhow?"

"I'm not drunk! _I'm telling the truth_! The equalists kidnapped me and I managed to get away. I can tell you where they are hiding if you take me to Chief Lin Beifong."

She watched helplessly as the man was still not convinced despite her continuous pleas and evidence. In fact, nothing she said was getting through to him, every now and then his eyes would lose focus, his breath smelled vile and putrid if he moved too close for comfort, and his hand would grasp the driver's seat for support when he started to fumble with his words. And the way he was looking at her with her eyes, it was creepier than Amon's stare. She snapped her fingers in front of him and tried to get him back on track with her, but it ended not in her favor.

To both of their surprise, Korra's wrist was easily snatched into the man's gloved hand. "How much?"

"What?" Korra tried to rip her hand away, as the man moved out of the driver seat and trying to get on top of her. "What are you doing?—"

"How much for service? Police work don't come cheap, yah know," he slurred. His other hand was trying to find something else to grab on, it didn't matter what. "If you _get_ where I'm _getting_ at?" He cackled loosely at that, something he must have said, but Korra wasn't laughing, she was panicking under the drunken officer.

"Let me go! You don't realize we could be followed—"

"—and you don't realize how hot ya are, little doll.—"

"Stop it!"

"Get any good _company_ while you were with them—learned anything _interesting_?"

"Nothing you would define as interesting! Get. Off. Of. Me!"

Reflexively, Korra threw his way a punch to knock him off his current seating, a fireblast to make him regret his actions and insight that she wasn't some little doll that couldn't handle herself. But the lick of flames that usually birthed from the palm of her hand did not come, Korra remembered what happened before she left in the truck, and the handicap was quickly taken noticed.

"Not a bender are yah? You not even the avatar, just some gal trying to get a few knots polished, huh?"

The officer, by this time, did not deem her a threat to him, and proceeded to roam her body with a bestial rhythm, drunken under perverted intentions.

"Get off of **_me_**!" Struggling her leg between their space, her foot kicked into his plated chest and sent him back in the driver's seat.

Korra jumped out of the backseat and out the vehicle, back to the outside cold, where it was dark and dangerously away from the lights and the crowds. She landed onto the ground, scrambling to regain her footing and run away from the man—but was stopped by a few pairs of feet blocking her vision from the lights and the people. Korra lifted her neck, and gasped to the sight of possibly a dozen of uniformed equalists.

Korra crawled backwards to the car, calculating the time it would take to make back to the safety of the crowd and away from these terrorists. And after a moments evaluation, the odds of her making it weren't exactly in her favor.

The officer struggled out of the car, looking for Korra, then to the equalists with an astonished expression, before sending their way whips of metal and boulders to set them all spiraling. He knocked a few off their feet, sent another one into the wall with a sickening crack, and managed to contain two more in metal bindings. It was a surprise that the man could accomplish this when he was drunk off his hat. Korra made for a turn and collided into an equalist trying to get away from a whip smacking against his back and straight into a collision into the avatar to the ground. The two were up on their feet, and another battle ensued. The equalist maneuvered his way around Korra's kicks and punches, trying to get a puncture, but was pushed back from inflicting damage from Korra as well. Another whip spiraled its way towards them aimlessly. The equalist took the opportunity to sneak up on the unsuspecting avatar trying to dodge the whip, and punctured a spot that rendered her entire left arm immobile. Korra screamed, but she pressed on, dropped to the ground, and chopped the guy of his footing to the land ungracefully to the ground, and met his face with her fist that knocked him out in seconds. She made for one final escape into a nearby park, ignoring the police officers cries as he was being subdued by more equalist that were also heading Korra's way.

Korra ran as far as her legs could take her, running away from the safety of the public crowds, and into a quiet and secluded park. She snuck into the bushes, trying to get a flicker of light to ignite from her un-tampered arm, until at last, when Korra was beginning to think all hope was lost, a spark of burning fire erupted and warmed her heart from the darkness.

_I have to signal someone. There has to be some place high enough for me._

Korra looked around from her hiding place, deceptively out of the chi-blockers sight, until she saw a tall water fountain down in the middle of the park.

Korra licked her dry lips, watching patiently for the blockers to leave her place, then, with their backs turned, she made for run to the fountain. Korra didn't stop, she never stopped running. It felt so good to run, too. To be outside, in the fresh air, where home was. Korra could not lose this opportunity. She jumped as far as her legs were trained to handle, landing successfully on the top of the fountain and sent to the skies the biggest flare she could muster. She sent more and more, ignoring the footsteps heading her way, ignoring the orders to stop and surrender, and keeping her eyes glued to the police blimp now flying in her direction.

There was a spark of ripping air, and a hiss of uncontrolled energy, as the Lieutenant jumped in the air and batted his electrified kali stick into Korra's stomach, knocking her off her perch and into the waters. Korra cried out and tried to get up, but felt a large weight crashing into her with the waters. She struggled against the man trying to restrain her, and reduced her attacker into a howling mess when she punched him square in the face. She scurried out of the water and dashed to the nearing blimp to save her in time. She screamed for them, waving her hands out to them—but tripped on her own two feet when her boots were coiled together by wrappings. Korra tried to rip them off, kicking and screaming, crawling towards the blimps lighting through the streets in search of the person who sent out the distress signal.

But it was too late, for as soon as Korra was about to reach her arm into the light drawing near her destination, she was pulled away from its course and back into the hands of the equalists. Before she could send a series of flames and earth to her enemies, her arms were subdued at her sides, blocked mercilessly until her body went numb and immobile. Korra moaned helplessly as she felt feeling escape her body, and was dragged to where Amon was waiting for her.

If looks could literally kill, Korra would be dead where she stood when she looked into the hood.

With her arms raised in the usual manner, Korra was forced to witness, like her, the drunk police man brought before Amon in a similar prostration like she. She watched him raise his hand in the air, lowering it slowly to permit the man to make any final farewells he held for his beloved bending, before his thumb touched over his forehead. The man wailed, then moaned, and then fainted. He was carried away once Amon finished, patting his hands together as he twisted to his Lieutenant. They spoke for what felt like hours, Korra's arms were just now getting feeling back. She tried to see where they had taken the officer, but the people that dragged him away were long gone consumed by the nights darkness, as was her last chance of escape with the police blimp, it was long gone by now, it must have returned to the more populated sectors of Republic City.

Her captors brought Korra back to where the two vehicles parked away. She was thrown in the car like a ragdoll, left alone for a moment, but accompanied by Amon for the guard's absence. He twisted around only slightly to those who were outside and ordered:

"Leave us both. Make sure there are no witnesses. Dispose them if necessary, otherwise, perform the usual."

The intensity in his voice had them left alone in a matter of seconds. No one questioned the man why he wanted to be alone with the avatar. And no one gave a second's look back to the subdued avatar about to be punished.

Amon started walking towards Korra after closing the door and shutting the only window in the back, still quiet, his face glaring at her in a way that Korra couldn't stop herself from shivering in fear.

Korra lifted her handsome shoulders, shrinking into herself, fearing what he was about to do, stifling: "I'm sorry—" before everything turned horribly that night.

With the inhuman speed the man possessed with his unnatural gift, Amon fisted a handful of her hair and forced her to her feet as he tore her from the ground with an animalistic tug. Korra cried out, echoeing her cry of pain inside the sealed vehicle, and whimpered as she tried to pry his hand from ripping out her hair, barely keeping her footing as only her toes touched the ground the more Amon lifted her off the ground with only his right arm.

"You will not be given mercy this time, avatar! Not this time!"

He threw Korra into the flooring, and crashed her body with his before she could whimper a moan from impact. All she felt was complete and utter heat when her face suffocated in his chest, his scent now stronger more than ever, hazing her senses and causing her to fall under a drunken delusion. With what little she could do, Korra moved her legs to get under him and kick, and tried to claw on his back as he moved closer. His mask pressed against her cheek, its cold texture sending electrical sparks against her flustered face, and his hot breath down the nape of her neck forced out desperate moans and strangling gasps. She continued to claw helplessly until it was no use and dwindled to fisting the back of his coat.

She could feel the muscles hiding under her fabric, the strength he hid behind his clothes after her struggling depleted underneath him. The thought of his body possibly being handsome and worthwhile did not completely diminish the disgust she harbored for this man as a person. But, if this was to proceed, and Amon was going to rip her of her innocence, at least he wasn't in that bad of shape for her. Not that she really had a preference; such corrupted thoughts never crossed her mind before until now. Such distracting thoughts of mingling with another man were of little importance compared to training as a full-fledged avatar. Korra didn't have time for that sort of subject. Even with Mako, all she could really imagine the two of them doing was kissing in her make-believe-relationship.

_But never this. _

Her vision blurred as Korra felt her head go light-headed, unable to process this situation was actually happening. Amon had always been true to his word, Korra knew that already. He wasn't hesitating this time, his handling of her body moved without confliction, there was no mercy, no remorse. Korra teared, and managed a small, helpless yelp when he made a sudden shove against her form.

"You reacting naturally. That is good."

Those big, awful hands slid beneath the fabric after disrobing her of her cloak, making quick work of her bindings, and exposing her in the same manner as before. Korra could do nothing. His arms were at either side above her shoulders, and his hips had her straddled, keeping her legs in place.

No. no. no.

Knowing that this would be it, Korra turned away from what was happening before her, clenching her eyes shut. But Amon would not allow her. He snatched her chin as his other hand proceeded to free her muscular arms from their sleeves, forcing her to face him which was just an inch away as she could feel and smell his breath against her face.

"Do I frighten you so?"

Her eyes would not relent, she refused him the satisfaction to look into her eyes and see the fear.

"Or do I excite you?"

A finger crept its way up her stomach, feeling the disciplined muscle under soft, shivering skin.

"Or . . . perhaps it is a bit of both," he mused, teasing her skin all the more by his breath against her craning neck as he adjusted her body to a pleasing exposure. "Had it not been I who will have this honor, then any other man would be a fool not to take their time as I am about to do. I will make this as slow and painful as I can perform."

Korra whimpered.

"Do you have something you wish to say? You are permitted to speak you mind, though, it would appear your body is already speaking for you."

"I . . . "Korra could feel her will giving way, withering the more the coldness in the back of the truck bit against her body. "I . . . I don't want this."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't. Please—"

"I warned you before what I would do if you continued to try anything, didn't I? Yet you continued to disobey me," Amon growled, his voice coming out fiercely, like an animal trying to contain itself from devouring its meal. Korra could feel his body rumble as his rage intensified. She cried and flinched violently when his fist punched the metal next to where her head was close by. "I was merciful before, but now I see it will take more than mere threats to get through to you. I did not wish for this, Korra. I truly do not." It was the truth. Even when his body proceeded without pause, the sincerity and broken truth slipped out in a rasped murmur. "If anything I wanted you to understand that it is by my side where you belong if this world is to achieve the 'perfect balance' you so vividly hoped to achieve in your predecessor's place."

Korra froze at once. "Yes. I want peace," she struggled to scream, to fight the white fog misguiding her body's actions. "But not with you! Your ways are wrong, and evil. You are a monster, and I want nothing to do with you!"

"If you truly want nothing to do with me," his hand ripped her of her remaining clothes. His eyes feasted upon her as Korra was unable to do nothing to stop him. "Then why do you react to me in such ways?"

So he does know. Korra strained her eyes to keep focus, coughing against the lump in her throat from screaming and denying his statement. But what good would it do? The evidence was clear. Her body was reacting to him without her permission.

"Shall we proceed then, **_young avatar_**?"

Hearing the clatter of buckles unhooking from their bindings from below her stomach, Korra was going to return to punching and thrashing before it was too late. She was not going to give in easily, he will never break her.

All of a sudden, as Amon was about to interfere with her innocence when her punches were proved futile, there came a harsh, hastened, and rather, worried tone.

"Amon. Republic city police are coming this way. We need to leave!"

If ever there was a time when Korra felt her luck had finally abandoned her, then she was truly, undeniably, grateful for her own wrong assumption.

Amon redressed Korra fast, donning her cloak and re-affixing those baggy sleeves that made her feel uncomfortable. When she was properly re-fitted to his liking, Amon unsealed the back doors and ordered his men to return. He gave out orders quickly, returning after to grab Korra by the arm and push her back to the floor with his foot over her head and keep her there. The Lieutenant jumped in, closed the door, and sat opposite to them as he was the final passenger to accompany them as the car started to live and drove.

Korra tried to re-adjust her head to look for any more occupants, but saw none in time before she felt Amon's foot push her head deeper into the floor. She whimpered.

"Do not move unless I order you to."

His foot smashed her ear against her cranium, causing more pain to her head. Korra bit down on her lip so as to not exploit more cries of pain. His foot continue to try to squish her head, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she whimpered:

"Yes."

"Good."

Korra didn't move a muscle, even as the automobile jumped if the road turned into a bumpy route now and then. She didn't speak, didn't mobile her arms or legs, as the foot planting over her head stayed in place, its pressure the same.

The drive was quiet and did not make any unnecessary stops this time. Neither of the men above her spoke a word. Sometimes she would catch the Lieutenant taking several glances to her, but she could never be sure whether it out of concern or to make sure she wasn't doing anything.

When the drive finally ended, and the foot removed itself from Korra's head, her arm was collected once more and dragged back outside. Amon pushed her out, jumping after, then the Lieutenant, wordlessly handling her without care into the back of a tall building. He lead her up a flight of stairs after making conversation with two equalist walking down a different set of stairs, always close to her, slowing down so often when he spoke to his Lieutenant, but make no mistake to let go of her arm. At some point, when they finished the last set, Korra was shoved inside a room.

Korra stumbled inside and was expecting to look for a cell with the restraints to hold her down-instead she found the complete opposite. Off to the side of a large oval open window displaying a beautiful view of the city there was a huge queen bed. There were two sets of velvet red couches that was down a few steps with a rectangular table in the middle, and to her left was a another table with normal three dark-brown chairs to match and a small kitchen area near the end of the corner. Overall, the place looked neat and much more luxurious than what she used to sleep in before they moved.

_If this is my room . . . well, I wouldn't know whether to thank these people or not. Thats for sure._

She turned around waiting for Amon to follow with guards to protect her. But Amon remained at the door speaking to his Lieutenant in hushed whispers.

"Are you sure?" she thought Lieutenant's formulated in a questionable tone.

She heard Amon nod. "I am. You quarters are below, so she will not be able to get by so easily as before. Sleep well."

He received a heart-filled gesture in return, then closed door, and turned back to Korra to grab at her. Wordlessly obeying him so as to not tempt him to continue where they left off, Amon led Korra to a rather large bed. She gave it a dumb look, unsure of what Amon wanted her to do. He helped her.

"Sleep. It is very late. And I am sure you are very tired, as I am."

Before she could question him, she was pushed lazily onto the bed. Korra regained herself to look for Amon walking to the other side of the room, watching his back carefully as he inspected papers splayed about on the table on the other side with a freshly lit candle to better see their contents. He sat on the chair and continued to organize the, too engrossed to pay any notice to the avatar staring after him dumbly, waiting for the man to finish what he was doing and leave her to enjoy the peacefullness of this room.

_Wasn't he going to leave soon? I'm getting tired of waiting. Go away. Go away, you. _

"When I turn around—"

Korra didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. She discarded her robe after pulling apart the bindings, scrambled underneath the soft coverings, then clamped her eyes shut, forcing sleep before she could displease the man more so in one day, and perhaps lose her privilege with this room. It wasn't that difficult. The bed was so soft, the blankets were warm as she nestled inside the collected heat underneath, and the pillows were big and fluffy as it tickled her skin, Korra hummed and smiled as slumber came to her much quicker than usual.

Amon watched off to the side as the avatar's eyes fluttered and her breaths slowed evenly and steady in a rather rapid turn. When he was certain she was indeed asleep, he quietly walked to the side of his occupied bed, collected the cloak and hanged it properly. He then returned to where his papers were, writing what he needed to sign, and threw himself rather uncharacteristically onto his large, of similar soft, couch after pinching the flicker of the candle stick out.

It didn't take long for him to follow after the avatar in slumber, forgetting the hate, and grief, as it all drifted from his very existence and Amon could bask in what he could shamelessly call paradise.

* * *

And that is that. Whew, that was a lot. Oh my goodness, that was fun to write though, I'm not gonna lie. I just hope it doesn't come off as too rushed. It was fun. And I have no regrets with this delicious taboo. I love those two, especially when Amon 'saves' Korra in episode nine. I was surprised, on the other hand, when he bargained with Lin for the avatars location in exchange for her to keep her bending. No offense, but that was a bit out of character if you ask me. The guy wants equality, so there should be no exceptions no matter the situation, unless he was going back on it later.

Anywho, so again, more characters of my own. I do hope I've kept to the characters so far, especially Amon, Korra, and the Lieutenant( who isn't bald after all. He's got a full crop of hair. Yay!)

Oh man, I really hope I didn't do a crappy job. To be honest, I did have fun with this chapter, but it felt like I didn't do a good job. Sorry if this wasn't to your liking. I promise to do better in the next chapter for sure.

Give me some feedback, tell me what you think, and just enjoy all that is holy of LOK.

Heheh . . . jeez.

Please review! :)


	5. Author Alert

Sooooooo . . . . yeah!

I'm pissed! No, I'm more than pissed! I am furious! Goddamnit! This is shamalayan-or whatever the fuck that guys name is-all over again. . . . . Goddamnit!

So now I am left at the point where I need to decided whether to continue the story as it as-either Amon being who he really is, or the mysterious ORIGINAL Amon that didn't turn OOC! . . . . calming down . . . not calming down. . . calming down a liiiittle bit . . .not really.

How can these people go all OOC on us like that? Come on!When I saw the episodes it felt like I wasn't even watching Amon!

Ugh. . . whatever so on to the main point.

I'm having trouble making this decision.

Continue writing wih the new story of Amon. Or should I write Amon to his original story where he really is scarred beyond repair and NOT a bender.

. . . . or (and I'm seriously thinking this too) whether I should just trash this story.

So if you guys want me to continue the story let me know, cuz I honestly don't know what to think right now, it feels like a perfect dark piece of wonderful imagination has just been ripped to shreds in front of my very eyes. But if there are still people out there who prefer Amon the way we loved him for, then I will continue the story!

Let me know. . .

(I'm still pissed.)


	6. Service With a Smile

Thank you all for your reviews. Every time I read them, my heart aches to share my love for this pairing. Hihihi!This will continue-but I'm sure everyone pretty much knew that. That and I'm not the rude one to ignore so many reviews for this story to discontinue.

So enjoy chapter 5. Once I finish chapter 6 and 7, I will get rid of that Author Alert eyesore. I'm getting a heartattack by just the thought that this won't be satisfactory. So please bear with me, I'm not feeling so well as it is, and there's alot going on in my last summer before starting college, so again, hang in there.

Oh and . . .

_Happy birthday to Lyly!_ :) (I am so terribly sorry for the three week delay, I hope you especially enjoy this one.)

* * *

_Heat._

_It was throbbing inside her, forcing out the powerful elicit moans from Korra's lungs._

_What transpired for this was beyond her. Sweat moisture fell down her bare back and twinkled her damp complexion with the flickering light from above, slithering down her shoulder-blade to be consumed in her sticky hair. Those rough, callused, firm, powerful hands lifted her bare legs with brute force, angling her head to dangle to the ground and bent over in Amon's lap casually. When she squirmed, he would hold her down, and if she whimpered and whined, he would touch her back in an obsessive, lustful caress to excite more noises from her. _

_A pad of a finger softly grazed her puckered lips. "Such a mouth, and such beautiful music produced."That voice affected her like no other._ _She felt the digits of those hands trail to her downward slowly so to instill more fear and excite the electric prickles in her skin."Now everyone, watch and pay **very **close attention on how to discipline the avatar . . . properly." Hushed words quickened in anticipation from the crowd made up of hundreds of equalists as they neared the site their superior was performing on the avatar. _

_Korra heard the beating of her own heart in her ears at a rapid succession. Glorious electricity thrummed inside her blood veins, that dark, void, insanity that had been deprived and repressed at last getting its fill. She wanted Amon to stop, and she wanted the equalist crowd circling them to turn away from her humiliating weakened state. It brought about the returning stimulations dwelling inside her. That part of her that scared her most. A part of her that craved his touch, for those hands to handle her, and undo those captivated thrills into a glorious release._

_I'm gonna. . . no . . . __She did. Hot tears fell down her reddened and bruised cheeks as the fire inside her became too unbearable even for her to contain. Korra clenched her eyes shut, moistening her stung eyes and keeping from watching Amon's arm rising—then cut through the air gapping between his wrathful hand and her buttocks. _

The humiliation proved too much for her pride to handle anymore. Korra was about to scream for him to stop and plead helplessly for the show to cease, her eyes shooting out past the crowds of equalists cheering after Amon's punishment—and evanesced to a bright, silent scenery of light and green.

Korra blinked several times to gather herself, scanning her body to find it sweaty under the soft covers, her barrowed uniform her makeshift pajamas. She reached for her damp forehead and patted it dry before doing the same to her neck. It was just a dream, thank spirits. Korra sucked in the early morning's moist air to settle her chest, and then twisted from the window's vague view of the city due to it being so early, still, to the two red couches two steps down from where she lied. She relied on what her eyes could make out so early in the morning, examining the two couches and whatever else this room afforded, but could not with effort determine the _black lump_ on one of the couches.

She intensified her vision, fighting the blurring fog of sleep, then, automatically, relaxed the tension in her muscles as she looked to the previously discarded black cloak with mixed feelings.

It laid there carelessly. Aside from the tidiness and spiritually, simple, and uplifting aura such a quarter could author, the cloak did little to defect its tranquil setting. Other than the midnight black cloak, there was no sign of any other living being accommodating this room other than Korra herself. No mustached-man with a stick up his behind, no goons to chi-block and abuse her skin, and most definitely, after another more intense scan, no gracefully adept man in black with the white mask obscuring the human features from view.

Korra took another breath to dispel the last of her morning agitation.

Then she got up with ease, ignoring the soreness of the rough bruises inhabiting her chocolate skin, and walked around the room, looking over the covers of the bed in its messy state, to the two brown cabinets off to the side next to the window, to the small stainless kitchen of a stove with two ranges behind the dining table and next to the slim cabinet of tea—delicious, extravagant tea—at the opposite end of the room, to the two red soft couches, and finally, Korra couldn't help but observe with greater curiosity, the table between the red furniture's with organized papers displayed out in the open.

Korra took a quick sweep of each paper, her eyes growing wider with each finished sentence—some taking more intelligence to comprehend—to the point where her eyes were practically about to fall out of their sockets. Her legs dropped her body into the couch as the astonishment occupied her eyes, stuck to the papers still held in her hands.

These are contracts. _Very important contracts_. And leases. Even loans for specific exports and imports.

Korra couldn't believe her luck, and at how Amon would be fatuous enough to leave them about for the avatar to get her hands on them. Ha! But why were they here? Oh . . . who cares! There came upon a sneer contoured in dark delight, and Korra could not, with all moral values still dormant in slumber, forbid her hands from replacing certain piles of paper that were meant to be kept together now mixed in with other piles, and other ones that required Amon's mark—a very messy, yet eloquent mark—now hid under a misplaced paper in shreds. And, as there were two spare papers left at the mercy of Korra's wrath, she felt for the only utensil she found nearby, and scribbled a doodle or two, adding an obscenity here and there, before she reconfigured the piles naturally to what they appeared before.

When Korra settled further inside the comfy pillows of the couch to examine everything she executed would go unnoticed for now, voices rose to audibleness as they made their way to the door of her room.

_Oh crud. _Korra bolted to the safety of the bed, pulled over the covers, and figuratively commanded every fiber in her body to be still and appear as if she were still sleeping.

The muffled conversation changed into hushed whispers, and the door at last opened with a smooth turn of the knob, allowing her unknown guest inside. Korra tried to keep her breath even as she heard nothing for what felt like a few minutes. Whoever was in her room did not make a single indication that he/she was there, and Korra began to assume her visitor was probably nothing more than a common guard sent to monitor her. But soft subdued footsteps made their way towards Korra, and when they stopped just a foot away where she lied in the bed, Korra's heart stopped in unison.

A rough pull against her only means of protection, a surprised gasp on her behalf, and Korra's form was exposed before the eyes of Amon himself. With a fistful of coverings in one hand and another to spare, Amon stared down the young, half-baked, avatar with a hint of amusement and wonder twinkling in those shrouded eyes.

"Good morning, young avatar. You slept well?"

Expectantly, she ignored his question. "I was sleeping . . . "Korra fumbled with her wordings to prove her lie, she was never a good actress, but for what it was worth, at least she tried. She gave him a lazy look, too, uncaring whether he was displeased or not. "What kind of person would pull off blankets like that, anyhow?"

"Someone who can perceive when the supposed slumberer is, in truth, very much awake and animated." Eventually his hands found their way to her shoulders, bringing the pouting avatar up from the bed with firm gentleness. She felt awkward in his embrace, uncomfortable with the surprising gentleness—and wary of that glint in his eyes. "Do note: lighten your footing when you are attempting to evade me."

Korra made a look._ Where did I hear that before?_ The memory of Tenzin's constant lectures for Korra's exceedingly habitual rugged movements being nowhere in comparison to the restrained moves of air-bending ran across her mind. She clenched her jaw as her heart sank at how much she missed her previous life's third son.

Brought back to the two only couches in the quarters by the shoulder, Korra sat opposite to Amon as he sat in the other, the table between them becoming the barrier keeping them apart. But as he said nothing insulting or otherwise negative to her so far, and thus, ruin her day—and her life—Korra was left with no other presentable option then to ask: "Why are you here, anyways? Don't you have one of your men to dump on me?"

"No."

Korra hummed. She passed his mask a big smug grin, trying to sound confident as manageable. "I must have scared them off, then." _Good riddance . . . nothing but leeches if you ask me. Especially that stuck-up Ferkins. He can dive down a volcano for all I care—_**_and I don't!_**

The hood shifted, a smirk behind the mask was caught by Korra's ear. "If anything avatar, the only impression you imprinted upon my men can hardly categorize itself as _intimidating_," Amon enlightened her, much too casually, throwing his arms back to rest on top of the couch, making the muscles under that black clothing more prominent and intimidating as his shoulders broadened in suit—Korra couldn't help but notice. "And me being here in the first place carries no affiliation towards you."

Korra looked towards the man with a questionable disposition. If he wasn't here for her, then why else would he be here? This man was the leader of the equalists for spirits sake; he didn't look the type to avoid such responsibilities. "Okay . . ." Korra swallowed down the lump in her throat, her nerves never fully submitting to ease. ". . . so why are you here, then?"

"Because this is my quarters for starters."

Korra could have sworn that smirk behind that stupid mask grew wider with the rest of his humored features. But that was the least of her concern. Nothing but shock plastered Korra features. What did he just say? This was his room? Oh, spirits. That lump suddenly became harder to force down her throat this time, and Korra started to panic in her place, thinking of certain things that could occur in this room—with him—and her—alone! He could have continued where they left off from yesturday night. He still can! _Oh, spirits!_

"So . . . I'm here . . . because . . . ?" Korra hesitantly asked, guarded, unable to conceal the angst riding up her spine, confidence wavering. Her fingers played into each other, flicking lightly into each other's biological pads out of nervous habits long overdue to overcome.

"Because it was the only logical arrangement to better surveillance your movements for the time being," he confessed without giving pause, "The Lieutenant's quarters is just below mine. And, as this is the last level on top of this building, not to mention your incapability to air bend." Whether he meant to or not, that last part struck a deep nerve in Korra's pride—her avatar pride. ". . . your chances of successfully escaping without detection are zero to none."

Korra turned to glare at that, the idea of her staying in Amon's personal quarters long since disposed from her mind. "And you think that will stop me?"

"No. I have taken your . . . _unique_ temperament into account," he stated with a playful thoughtfulness. ". . . and I am confident this new adjustment will do nothing more than simply quench whatever feeble ambitions of escape you still have."

Between her new living arrangements and the new order of guard duty—Korra couldn't help but remark stupidly: "So my stay here is permanent."

"Yes."

Korra stared at Amon for a while, internally impressed by his strategic genius and lack of overconfidence he held for his opponents, especially her. But his arrogance with his own abilities hardly diffused her view of him, thinking that if his henchmen could not contain her, then he will. With nothing to say to that, she dropped her head to her hands and fumbled with her hands more nervously this time, wondering if she can ever make another escape again.

"I still don't see why you want to keep me here."

She felt Amon eyeing her now and still did not sense his anger. He was still passive right now, madly absorbed by her words, flustering her as he did, and, unfortunately, performing an unreadable persona under a veil of enigmatic air. His voice was the same unearthly smoothness she had become accustomed to, those words exuding from his mask were filled with a diplomatic detachment like that of a politician. "You are a very important piece to my plans right now, young avatar. And you being here for now has made it all the more easier for me to accelerate my plans for this city, and the future."

"I still don't understand."

"What do you not understand?" Amon rasped, the irritation slipping, barely. Apparently he didn't make it clear enough for the Water Tribe teenager to comprehend.

"This!" Korra angrily snapped at him. She wanted to punch his mask so much she had to clench her fists from doing so. This was all his fault. If he never existed, then the world would never be out of balance in the first placed. Usherer-of-a-new-age-of-equality _be damned_! "Why am I being held prisoner when there are obviously other ways to settle this dispute?"

Amon's chest rumbled, like she made some funny remark or a joke. "Do you really believe this sort of crisis is best suited in court with politicians, many of which who are corrupted beyond the boundaries of their own liberties?" He patted her head without warning from across the table, his fingers digging into her messy hair tenderly. That hand came at her so fast; Korra had to regain her frightened expression to settle down when it let go and receded to his side. "Such an adorable imagination as always. But unfortunately, matters—touchy ones such as mine—cannot fathom the minds of those who will surely turn away."

"It would never have been that way," Korra retorted sharply, trying to look up to him with a straight face. "You just need to find the right people to support you." She could think of one person, with his natural bald head and well-groomed beard to match that stiff personality of his. ". . . council member Tenzin would have helped you."

The son of her previous life, Avatar Aang, always thought of the people before there came for a final vote. Not only that, but he was also a devoted father to his dear and kind-hearted wife, Pema, and an outstanding father like hers with his three—another on the way—children. Korra could not think of anyone else other than Tenzin, had Amon not been who he is now to the bending public of this city, would have gladly sacrificed every second of his time to hear the man out and offer his assistance, because it was something important to take into consideration—something Tenzin would have spent each day having Amon's cause debated and voted for—minus the whole no-bending part . . .

Bu the look in Amon's shaded eyes showed her words did not reach him, his eyes were hardened and reclusive to her views, refusing her words, her proposal left on deaf ears. "Yes, the airbender diplomat has proven himself on multiple occasions his chivalries for the less fortunate. However, his voice does not carry such a great weight as well as that slug, Tarrlok, therefore, that attempt would have been for not."

"But you did consider the idea, yes?" She prodded, hoping to break through that barrier that kept outsiders from appeasing that dark, bending-detestation and give credence to her theory. "I mean, you must have looked for other ways to spread your ideals less forcefully?"

"I appreciate your concern, young avatar." It _sounded_ honest, but those piercing calculated eyes revealed the patience beginning to agitate and wither. "But I'm afraid your adolescent mind still needs more molding before you can fathom the true complexities of politics and their foundations."

"Why? I'm the avatar. The peacekeeper for crying out loud! And by you, I've been to enough council meetings to grasp how it works—"

"I meant no offense. I was only clarifying you immaturity from your standpoint."

Korra gasped, and gritted her teeth together savagely. "I am _not_ immature!" She yelled fiercely, "I'm practically seventeen-in-a-half already! And I'm very confident I can understand your diplomatic _garbage_—"

"Lower your voice, young avatar," Amon commanded in an exasperated whisper; apparently he was done with this pointless conversation. Korra wouldn't admit to out loud, but the feeling was mutual as neither of them was getting anywhere productive with this vain debate. He settled back into the lush cushions, relaxing in the avatar's muteness before she would predictably ruin it once more soon enough. "It is ten minutes to seven. There are still people in this building who paid overtime due to your actions last night."

Korra slammed back into her makeshift territory, mirroring Amon's lax posture with her arms crossed, her features just as intense, but rested her legs on top of the dark-brown coffee table to add some flare into her less-than-inanimate sitting. "Like I care," she mouthed off in hushed breath.

Amon heard, of course, at such close distance, and because Korra was still fuming from what he said before and did not care if he heard it not. "Remove your feet from the table," his order came out like a parent chastising their child. His eyes were resting when he said it. "And you will care, because—"

"I know, I know," Korra heaved irritably, "_Because soon enough we will **all** be equalized and cleansed of our impurity for the greater good of Republic City_!" She tried to pull a decent mimicry to Amon's speech patterns; it came out stupid and lazy.

Amon opened his eyes to look to the insolent teenager that was his obstacle in his reign for equality. He did not sound like that, first of all, it was unflattering to say the least, but he couldn't resist the small smile creeping up his scarred tissue into a vague fragment of what he could only guess was levity. Everything this young woman did—especially when it was directed to him—left him in both admiration for her blunt bravery, and a raging passion to put her in her natural place and dominate her to his liking. Without the conscious sense in restraint, his lips parted for his once humored state of mind to steer his words and tease her behavior.

"Correction: _Very_ immature."

"_I'm not_—"

But Amon cut her off swiftly, his eyes darting to a particular set of papers he spent the entire night sorting through with three standard hours to rest before he had to depart for a scheduled call. "What is that?"

Korra followed his stare to one of the piles of papers she tampered with. It was at that realization of Amon noticing a particular smudge of ink to one of the papers—a flaw Amon himself would never make with something so important—she composed her face into an emotionless placid during the milliseconds it took for Amon to slowly remove his eyes to where Korra was, his stare-now-turned-glare now becoming fierce.

A rushed knock on the door intercepted the possible conflict, followed by a hoarse voice asking for permission, Amon permitted his guest inside but never took his eyes off Korra as he did. It didn't take Korra to guess who it was, of course it would be the lieutenant, who trolled his way to Amon's side after entering and closing the door behind him with a click. The expression under those goggles expressed a professional businesslike air as customary in the presence of his leader—until his eyes locked on the avatar and melted into contempt.

Still peeved, and in need to expel whatever anger she had to start off the morning on a good note, she greeted the man with, "Top of the morning to you, good sir," aside from the glare she was still getting from the other couch's direction.

The lieutenant brushed off Korra's greeting coldly, ignoring her existence entirely. He spoke to Amon, "Sir, I've received a letter of confirmation for the production of our latest blueprints. The imperfections have been dealt with, including the glitch impairment with the coiling batteries. We will receive shipments for parts first thing tomorrow morning, but I will require the signature page for that to happen." The Lieutenant lifted a patient gloved hand. "If you please?"

With his eyes still on Korra, keeping tabs on anything that could very well prosecute against her of what she might have done to his papers, Amon lifted up one of the piles, taking his eyes off her only to scan each flipped paper, becoming more and more angrier and frustrated at each passing. Korra bit her bottom lip, biting back her agitation when she watched in slow motion as Amon lifted one particular paper away, and unwittingly freed all the ripped scraps—by her own hand—to scatter in his lap, the floor, and across the table.

Amon lifted his head from the mess scattered all over his cleaned floor. "I cannot," The mask spoke at last, surprisingly devoid and contained from ill spirits. "It would seem they have been gravely damaged."

At hearing his superior say that, the Lieutenant snatched at the scraps in a panic, verifying with his own inspection that they were indeed the signature papers he needed. He went through each paper, finding one specific paper he greatly disliked for reasons, and threw it in Korra's face.

"What is this suppose to be!"

It was entirely rhetorical. Korra drew to the best of her ability a picture of the Lieutenant shocking himself with his own kali-stick with a stupid expression to match the scene on that held paper. Above her doodle scribbled: _I'm a crumb._

Korra cracked a smile, in light of the foreboding atmosphere looming over her, and mocked with nonchalant sweetness, "You, of course."

When it came time to leave for the morning training session, Korra didn't make it out past the doors without having to continuously rub at her abused ear tenderly as the three of them made it down the stairs, further below the building itself into the underground. It was only after they found themselves at the bottom of the stairs did Korra start speaking again—much sooner than both the leader and his second yearned for—her hand still tending her sore earlobe. "I can't believe you did that."

The mask scoffed, retorting sharply: "Imagine how I felt after what you did."

The lieutenant shoved Korra to move her feet again, mouthing off behind her back 'Water Tribe savage' and in return he was given a back ward stomp on his boot as they continued on. Amon and the Lieutenant would be at both her sides, leading her through the corridors and around larger openings and more stairs, until at last they entered a very large—much larger than the other one—and empty mess hall. Not the arena . . .

The Lieutenant walked out after a short bow, telling his leader he will '_see him there'_ before leaving Amon with Korra. She thought they were going to eat, but Korra was stumped when they walked right past the open benches, past pale green worn-down twin doors, and into the kitchen wordlessly. Korra was then left alone with her thoughts while Amon disappeared past the stoves.

Korra looked around out of whim. The place was spotless as far as she could see—she knew it was not for long until the eating hours began—as everything was in order and positioned where they were needed the most. The stainless stoves, stationed and cold, encircled the white rectangular post with the pots at each burner. The rest were likely kept away in the wooden cabinets in the back next to the larger, metallic, cabinets stashed with fruits and vegetables. The place shined in brilliant white and lustrous silver, the air smelled of expensive spices and aromas that threw Korra's stomach into a frenzy, and the temperature was unbearably hot, Korra was already sweating in her suit.

Amon had always been one to play dirty tricks; all the smells in this kitchen might be a ploy to get her to eat. Korra scowled, how dare he think of such a thing. Such an act prompted retaliation. Perhaps throwing her plate across the tables would suffice—Amon will likely have her punished in some way—but it was worth it.

"Korra." Korra perked up to her calling to Amon returning to her side again, that recognizable dark twinkle in his eyes had her on edge the second he placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is where we must part ways for now."

Korra eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

"As simple as I have just said," Amon answered coolly. "You will remain here. I, on the other hand, must oversee the morning practice. Is it not common for a commander to make sure his troops are properly prepared for battle? No? My followers are a priority I do not take lightly, as such, my energy cannot always fall upon you, young avatar."

"And me?" Korra questioned again. "What am I suppose to do in a kitchen?"

The smirk on that mask, as Amon lowered his head to look down upon the avatar, turned into a wicked smile under the shadows of his hood. "You will cook."

It took exactly two whole seconds for the sentence to process Korra's brain, and when it clicked; her reaction was less than subtle.

Korra wailed furiously, ignoring that grip on her shoulder in her fit. "I will _NOT COOK FOR **YOU**_!" How dare this man think of her as some common servant to throw around. He will pay. Korra saw red; she wanted to smash that porcelain mask right in the ground until it was nothing but dust at her feet. She wanted to cause him pain, more pain than that fire-bender that burned his face off.

"I never said you would be cooking for me solely." Amon made for a gentle gesture to calm her down as civilly as possible. Naturally Korra viciously tore her shoulder from his grasp; Amon expected she would after hearing his plan. Her sudden outburst was not a surprise to Amon in the least, if anything; it showed her liveliness in light of what occurred just last night. "I see it more befitting of this opportunity if you were to instead cook for my factions for a few standard days at best—depending on your behavior," he explained.

"For your entire faction—_why am I doing this_!" Korra snapped her teeth at him.

That creepy, smug, stupid smile did not falter at her outburst. "I want you to familiarize amongst them. Socialize, if you will. As I said before, I am the leader of the Equalists, young avatar, I cannot mind you forever. Eventually your custody will be left with others when my presence is requested elsewhere."

"Don't leave me with these people! They'll make fun of me if I do this." Korra moaned, as pathetic as it sounded, she would rather be in the hands of Amon than his henchmen. Spirits only knows what these people would do to her if ever Amon gave them the word to harm her.

"This does not call for overreaction. And as much as you fool yourself to believe us to be, we would not lower ourselves to the level of the _vile benders_."

Korra grinded her teeth together out of sheer irritation alone. It's bad enough she gets humiliated in front of the equalists from a Hosing, now this man is making it even worse for her by making her _cater_ to them. _Her. A bender_**—no, the avatar**! **_For equalists_**! No. This would be more humiliating. "I'm not saying that!" she whined. "I don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this!"

"Whether you want to or not, I care not for. You will do as I say, or you will be punished."

Something firm and rough stole Korra's wrist in mid-air, and the next thing Korra could process with the seconds it took for her to register was the interference with her connection with her bending as Amon plunged his fingers into her skin. The pain was tremendously unbearable, not at all restrained like the chi-blockers who would normally treat her; it felt like his fingernails would break through the skin, Korra couldn't hold back the whimper with each stab. And when he finished and released his hold on her wrist to let her fall to the ground, he made no indication of remorse or pity as he watched with hardened eyes as Korra struggled to rise back up again.

Before he left her to whoever was in charge of her now, Amon's arms receded behind his back automatically in his usual business-like pose. "The cooks have already been given notice of your arrival. Behave, young avatar. I expect you to learn from this, do not disappoint me." He turned on his heels, and left the kitchen.

Ignoring the soreness in her muscles, Korra lifted herself up from the marble white ground and proceeded to the back where she could two men conversing with one another.

The tallest of the two was lithe yet paced around his companion like an agile fighter, he was light on his foot hardly making a sound as he threw a sack of flour off to the side, strays of his slick black hair clung to his moistened forehead over his light blue eyes. The other one had long brown hair held back in a ponytail, twice as muscular and broad compared to the other. The two cooks were currently in the middle of a discussion over which ingredients were better suited with today's fried rice—to Korra it was a boring topic she hoped never to get into with either of them, but then again she was not as passionate with culinary arts like these two were.

She coughed loudly to get their attention, and greeted them with an awkward smile. They did the same, though the looks over their faces showed little enthusiasm having responsibility of the avatar. She gave the two men her name, as pointless as it seemed its sole purpose was to drive out whatever convictions they might have beheld for her and show how polite she can be in good company. She even blessed them with a smile to fully express her compromise in working with them, when inside, she was slowly being ripped apart for the humiliation starting at breakfast hours.

The two men did not hesitate to put Korra to work.

Firstly, Korra didn't know how to cook, another reason for her hesitation in conceding to these terms. She can boil water, and cook fish, but that was about it. She didn't know which ingredients went with which, or how long to put certain foods into the oven or stove—or whether they were supposed to be put in the oven or the stove. Everything in this place intimidated her with its organization. The cooking gadgets lined against the wall in a perfect line. The different varieties of condiments placed in shelves just above ovens and shiny pots and pans were placed accordingly. Other ingredients were placed in their appropriate stations; everything was set up for these two men to cook whatever delicious works of art their hands can birth. It was maddening, and Korra was falling into a forlorn state as to how everything could have been solved had she not been blocked from her fire bending. She would have cooked all this food in no time.

When it was obvious the girl had no experience in cooking, the two men decided it best for everyone—for them, anyways—for Korra to clean the pots, pans, and dishes. Korra didn't complain.

When it was time to set the tables for breakfast, Korra's face couldn't get any redder. Even as people starting walking inside the mess hall and witness with their own two, working eyes the avatar setting up the tables for them, was something normally never to be expected so early in the morning. One by one each seat was filled, and one after another, each and every crony watched the avatar continue to set up more tables and making their food. There was not a part of her face that didn't burn with the embarrassment, Korra just wanted to run back and hide under those cozy covers until everyone forgot about her. But that would be futile. Not to mention, cowardly. And Korra was not a coward, she never ran away from a fight, so this should be nothing, right?

Her heart started pounding in her ears.

One of the chefs confronted Korra right after she completed the first task of the day. "Take these and pass them out. We are having scrambled eggs with toast today."

Korra was handed two saucers for both hands, five bowls in each. Her eyes looked at the cooked eggs, then to the cook, back to the eggs, and returned to the cook with her eye ball as wide as can be. "What am I suppose to do?" She already knew the answer, she just wanted to make sure, and prayed that it wouldn't come out of the man's mouth.

"Go outside and serve tables, starting by rows. Issah will help you." Issah, as the man spoke kindly of, was the other cook. He was already collecting bowls into his plates, sizing them over his shoulders and waited with an expressionless face for Korra to walk out before him. Korra didn't know what to do; her mind was blank, her brain failing to recall how her legs worked. But when the man ordered her with an authoritative, "Chop chop kid, let's go!" her legs mobiled to life and moved all on their own.

_All I have to do is serve them their breakfast . . . and then run back to the kitchen._ _Simple as that._ Korra told herself that over and over again walking past those two doors.

Things went wrong the second she placed one foot out the kitchen door. It all happened so fast, even for her. The bones in her legs turned to jelly when her eyes met crowds of hungry equalists staring at their new addition to the cooking staff—and fell forward into a clumsy buckle at the worst time. Her knees met the ground floor, then her face, followed by all the cooked food spilling all over the floor. Korra rose to her feet carefully, blocking out the snickers and muffled laughter, not taking any risks in case her legs decided to betray her body again and spoil more food.

_Since when the heck do I trip?_ Korra mentally shouted, more to herself.

With new trays to hand around, Korra started all over again, placing a plate for each person and moving on to the next row under unnatural and nerve-racking scrutiny. It was either Korra being given weird stares as she continued to pass out breakfast—or the bowls she served. No one touched the bowls, some poked at it with their forks, and others kept a wary eye on the bender serving them without a word. It took Issah to whisper that the food was '_okay and not corrupted'_, and that was when, with restored confidence, the cooked eggs were taken in with less trepidation.

So far no one was speaking to Korra aside from the muffled conversations as to the reasons for her surprising docile behavior. It was nothing but staring and gaping that Korra was getting for her visibly obedient nature—so far. Korra had hoped that by the third row their staring would cease, but each time she returned and served more people, they, too, joined their brethren to gawk after her in surprise, and cruel enjoyment.

Korra kept her head low, and her mouth firmly compressed into a thin line. She did not want to provoke conflict, not when she was so vulnerable. When I'm done with this, I am going to kick Amon where the sun don't shine!—yeah, that place! One unlucky plate was clenched by brute strength in Korra's hand, creating a small crack around its circular edge.

At the last row, as Korra was serving a few rather unpleasant members—the deathly-evil-glare-on-her unpleasant type—she failed to notice one of the men tossing a napkin over his shoulder. The falling napkin paused the whispers to still, no one took their eyes off the napkin next to the avatar's feet.

"Oh _waitress_," sounded a spiteful beckoning, "would you be kind enough to get that for me?"

Korra turned glowered at the man for calling her that, her arm stopped midway from passing another bowl to a hungry female. "Get what?"

"The napkin on the floor. I dropped it."

"So get it yourself. You're right there," Korra spat at the man, her eyes narrowed. He looked like a weasel, an ugly weasel. Even that ugly smile and those two prominent bucked teeth made him like a rat, even.

"My, is the avatar really such a rude person." He brought a hand over his mouth, as if he had seen something surprising. "I wonder how Amon would feel—"

Korras eyes widened in horror. "Hold on!" she pleaded, and regretted making herself pathetic in front of this guy.

The guy had a big smug sneer on his face. And everyone else who watched the scene play out looked at the teenager rumored to have a short and wild temper with gaping mouths and big wide eyes. They waited in silence for the avatar to do something, whereas Korra stood there like a statue contemplating the choices. From the look in the man's cruel eyes, he was only doing this to get a ride out of her, and nothing more. But Korra would not waste her time with someone vying for the attention of his superiors. She will not lower herself to this leech's expectation—the fight he wanted, and the victory he'll have over her once their leader caught wind of what she did.

Taking her left empty saucer into the other hand, Korra crouched, wincing when she felt the bruises stretch in her legs, and grabbed the napkin for the man to retrieve from her held out arm. Her submitted action stirred the audience into a stupor.

"Thank you kindly, waitress." The man waved around the napkin in some kind of victory, giggling nastily with his friends who in turn, congratulated their comrade in secrecy, toying with the napkin.

Korra retreated back to the kitchen from the stifled snickers and taunting stares when she finished. She stumbled towards the side a stove and had to fight the inner conflict within her. She then punched a fist straight into the wall, imagining it to be the man with the rat face. She sent another punch, took a step back, and massaged her numb knuckles.

"Are you okay?"

Korra side-looked to the cook. It was Issah.

She nodded her head quickly, standing erect then fixing her hair behind her back and patting away the sweat on her neck with the red fabric of her suit. "Yeah, I'm fine . . . just _peachy._"

"Good. Here," he pushed a broom her arms, his eyes averting from that punched-in dry wall, his mind focused to the task ahead. "Clean the spilled food. When you are done, collect the dishes, clear?" He brusquely took off somewhere in the kitchen, and Korra went back outside and did as she was told, Amon's threat repeating like a broken record in the back of her mind, reminding her as his mask smirked in the back of her mind, and prayed with all her might that she would not be set off by another weasel like the man from before.

_I don't want to get into trouble. I need to survive with my dignity intact_. Korra cringed at the thought of that ghostly white hand grabbing at her, interfering with her. Korra shook her head and refreshed instantly after.

After cleaning up the broken glass, and collecting all the used—unbroken—bowls and utensils to wash, Korra was to set up for lunch this time. This time, however, the two cooks had Korra helping them. For lunch they were going to prepare delicious ham sandwiches. Korra observed intently as the two prepared the sandwich how it was suppose to be, she tried it herself on her own, and got it right away, receiving short praise from both the men. She had been offered a sandwich at some point during break, but refused the offer respectfully, and told them she was not hungry. Issah, however, did not fall for it, and simply left it on an empty table for Korra to finish it later. She never did. Its remains would later be discreetly disposed in the garbage bin, that was when Korra got an idea.

She threw a hesitant glance over her shoulder to be sure no one saw the contents inside the bin. Seeing that both the cooks were too preoccupied preparing food, she said out loud, "The trash bin is full. Where do I throw it out?"

Neither of them turned around, and finally one of them gave her direction, "Out back to the right."

Korra muttered an, "Okay," picked up the trash bin, walked casually out the back door, and made for a run with the bin discarded in a corner.

_Yes. Oh spirits yes! I'm gonna get out of here_!

Korra took the turn out of the kitchen area and straight through the exit, to make a sharp turn, nearly tripping into the wall as she did, towards the light that shined the end of the tunnel, and out an opening onto a platform at full speed—narrowly dodging misfortune on her part when her body was completely stopped by the railing. Korra couldn't quite figure where she was in the underground, for the structure of the large tunnel leading downward and upward baffled her.

At the center stage, with stairs built to snake down the corridors and bridge to the exterior corridors, Korra investigated down the drop to watch as a few equalists walked to their rooms or heading out. That being the case, her best options for escape had to be up the gigantic hole—the walls affixed with so many stairs and bridges, Korra lost track of which routes she could take.

Korra climbed up a ladder to another level above, dropping into the shadows a few times when one or two equalists were walking by, then continuing across until she met a disappointing dead-end to a passageway.

Korra groaned. She will have to chance it and go inside. Grunting and cries echoed harmoniously louder the further Korra ventured into the eerie tunnel, her only source of light fading as she did, to stop three feet away from an entrance. Should she go further? What if there are equalists in there? What if the cooks knew she was gone already? Beyond that door could very well be the last final escape attempt, and Korra would be captured once more, returned to Amon, and face her fate at the hand of his fury. Korra started to sweat out of fear, her eyes widened as the yelling got louder, then it stilled, then erupted into more howling and cheering that it made Korra jump.

_Just a peak_. Korra told herself. _Just a quick tiny peak, no one will notice._

Korra looked into the doorway, and was surprised, and mentally slapped herself, then physically covered her eyes, when she stared into an empty locker room—_the men's locker room_. Korra flipped back out the door and slammed her body against the wall, her cheeks burned in embarrassment when she made a mistake to look in one of the open lockers.

_The locker room. The mens Locker room. Come on!_ Korra stepped inside, keeping her eyes to the ground, resisting the temptations to look inside the open lockers. _Keep your eyes down, Korra! Don't do it! Do. Not. Look. Into. . . ._Korra stole a glance inside a locker room. And regretted it. Her neck threw her head back to the ground. _I saw them! I saw them!_

Korra quickened her pace to an open doorway leading to an arena. It was the same like the last one she got to see in her last attempt. But this one was a lot bigger—with more equalists, training, sparring with one another or with a lump of wood in the ground.

_Oh, there they are—and there he is . . . . _

Out of the entire crowd of equalist, there was no mistaking the one donned in black with that porcelain white mask taking out five chi-blockers coming his way.

Amon. Under a veil of enigmatic dexterity, arms fluctuating accordingly, legs dancing about to the rhythm of his body, the man compelled years of training to conform into something supernatural and frightening without flaw.

Korra watched as Amon moved with such precision, avoiding the attacks as if he already knew where they were coming from. He would jump, and it was graceful. When he moved, Korra could have sworn he blurred out of thin air. And when he attacked, there was no fear, no hesitation, nothing but focus, discipline, and power leading that fist into his opponents back and disabling them into limp bodies on the ground. He spoke to each opponent individually, giving his piece, before he moved them around him in a large circle, and they attacked him once again.

His body moved in accordance to his actions, side-stepping and avoiding in one fluid motion. His step—unlike his opponents—were quiet and light like an airbender. And when he made for an opening, his arms would be lost in a blurring motion so fast that Korra had to keep from blinking. When it appeared all five opponents were sufficiently exhausted—quickly—the man lifted for a pause to give another lecture to his men.

The members looked up to Amon with such respect, Korra could see why. The man was someone who you can rely on, someone who would not lose so easily. He was an adversary worthy of respect. Korra can give him that. His abilities in combat were what made him into a lethal weapon. And his unpredictable personality, and that cold disposition, carved this man into someone Korra couldn't help but fear and regret ever making him an enemy.

Korra let out a depressed sigh as Amon completed a perfect back flip effortlessly when one of his men was left under the impression he had him. _Such a powerful man, and he is my enemy. _Korra frowned. Had the circumstances been different, and they were to meet on better terms, Korra wondered to the possibility of the two of them becoming friends_. _

_"That last routine we briefed on was terrible."_

Korra ripped around to the showers.

"Yeah, I can never reach that double high kick."

Korra was stuck like a statue. Inside, however, she was screaming her head off and cursing any spirit who dared looked down upon her. Korra reacted fast, using the time it took for the two men to enter the locker room, eyes darting to any hiding spot available, and found it to be in one of the vacant lockers. Korra did not make a sound when the two men, both completely naked, safe for the towels tightly wrapped around their hips—which Korra was thankful for.

"Hey, you think Mirri is tagged with anyone?" One of them had asked, he tore off his towel and threw it over his shoulder. Korra lowered her head from the locker vent, barely catching the trail of black pubic hair but caught herself quickly before it was too late.

"How would I know?" The other answered casually. "I wouldn't waste my time on her." The man shrugged at his own words, and turned to his locker—the locker Korra was hiding in.

Desperately, Korra looked for anything that could hide her, but everything in this dark compartment hardly had anything that could conceal an escaping avatar. The sound of a rusty slide of the handle hummed through Korra's hearing, she stopped breathing, praying as the locker door slid open, that Amon's punishment would be quick and painless after he found out she tried to escape again.

"She's so . . . "

The first thing she saw when the light spread over her was a half-naked-half-wet man looking around for something, until he realized that there was a woman in his locker, those soft blue eyes looking at her in a daze wonderment—then turned to shock.

Neither spoke a word, not even Korra, the other equalist just five lockers away being the only one making loud noises as he changed into his uniform.

"She's so _what_?" His friend asked impatiently.

"So . . ."

The young man, visibly confused as to what to do, fumbled his lips to work out what his brain was trying to operate. And when he was about to say something, Korra bit so hard on her bottom lip, she tasted blood. This was it, Korra was done for.

His eyes changed from shock to concern, mouth compressed the same as Korra's. To Korra's greatest surprise, she no longer saw the malice, or the shock that once defined his features, but a tenderness she thought an equalist would never grace her. With a slow movement of his arm, he reached next to her head, grabbed at his uniform, moved back, and closed the door as it creaked to a shut.

". . . astringent."

Fabric rustling to cover skin past those vents, indescribable emotions enthralled inside the avatar as she watched in awe as the man changed as if nothing happened, his eyes meeting hers once more, another intimate tenderness and confirmation that he was not going to do what his position demanded, before turning away to his friend.

"Hurry up man, I'm hungry."

Watching them leave, Korra looked around to see she was alone, retreating through the tunnel under a spell of after-shock, and made her way back to the kitchen, frowning all the way. Precious hours in escape utterly wasted, Korra hoped the cooks didn't realize how long she had been gone for.

The cooks were so engrossed in their work that when they saw the avatar appear at their side to wash the remaining dishes, it took them a while to remember why she was with them in the first place.

Lunch came and went just as quickly as dinner did. Korra would walk out with a tray of food for each person, and each time she walked out, her welcome would come in the form of sneering and guffawing at what the avatar—_the ultimate bender_— has been reduced to. Korra could do nothing in retaliation, not with Amon's promise fettering her fists from connecting to those snobbish faces. The table's laughter filled her hearing as their eyes followed her until she would make it past the door with her dignity in pieces and her spirit lurching in a deep burn. The cooks didn't see her walk when they spoke to their friends on the other side of that counter; she went to the sink and washed the dishes with a doleful face for the rest of the day.

Finally, thank heavens, when Korra had finished the last of the plates, the Lieutenant walked in to tell the staff he was to take her back now. The faces on the two men were nothing but pure nonchalance, the least they did for her hard work was wave her off to see her again the next.

The Lieutenants attitude was the usual animosity if ever he laid his eyes on her, glaring at her in a way that made her feel like she did something to him in the past. She noticed the redness in his eyes; he must be very tired and worn. She didn't know what it was, but a pang in the pit of her stomach told Korra to not do anything brash. Naturally she disregarded it, and followed after him at his beckoning with little reluctance. Instead of heading towards the stairs, the Lieutenant brought the confused avatar into the arena from before. Korra was amazed to be able to see the arena fully now, its size amazed her, far larger than the one at the previous facility. It had posts, athletic equipment of sorts, and even a pool. A pool! But before Korra could get any ideas, she was pushed to the direction of the women's locker room.

"Go and clean yourself up," the Lieutenant said firmly. Just for humor, Korra lifted her arm in the air and sniffed herself, the Lieutenant cringed. "One of the veteran females should have left you a spare suit that should match your size." Before Korra went in, however, she hesitated to give him yet another suspicious look. The man frowned. "What is it?"

Korra's eyes narrowed another fraction. "You better not sneak a peek."

Taken by surprise, the Lieutenant jumped back, ordering her to, "Hurry up!" and overcame with red. Korra ran from the flushing man to the showers, laughing as she did with a dark whimsical expression on her face.

The bathroom was much cleaner than the men's locker room, naturally. Everything was in order, Korra was glad at least the women in this organization were sanitary. When she found the shower room with a new folded uniform just outside, Korra made a quick move working the buckles loose, slipping out of her suit nd tossing it aside carelessly, and basked in the hot shower with a turn of the knobs.

She blushed as the sprays of hot water soaked her down as she lathered her body with the available bottles placed off to the side, washing away the grease and acne from her body. The bruises coloring her entire body felt as if they were never there, allowing Korra to bend down and sit where the shower head was facing.

Oh, how Korra missed water. With what little time she was allowed, Korra didn't waste a single minute relaxing under the waters weight. She relished its touch as it went down her body like tiny slithering snakes. It brought life and color within her, comforting her with its hot embrace. It was like heaven. The way the water touched at her skin, connecting with her spirit like any other bender would sense, like a reunion with her spiritual side. It sent a huge feeling of relief in her heart, and Korra smiled warmly as she cupped some water in her hand and kissed it tenderly, spilling the water over her head and shuddered with delight.

Curiously, Korra dipped her fingers into the pool of water above her toes, concentrating to the small currents as they escaped into the drainage. The currents stayed the course, and only rippled when her body moved, on their own and not by her. Korra threw her hand back and slammed a fist in the marble wall, murmuring things such as burning chi-blockers. Her bending had not returned.

Korra jumped in place after a booming, "Twenty more minutes . . . and you better be decent," emanating from outside the women's locker room. The Lieutenant must be getting tired of waiting.

Drying herself off after turning off the shower, Korra buckled on her suit as she made her way back to her waiting chaperone, finding him just the way she left him, flustered and red in the cheeks. The Lieutenant examined her fast, approving her state, and then jerked her to walk to the stairs at his side, his eyes averting from her all together.

Keeping to the same pace with ease as they made their way back to their quarters up above, Korra tried making conversation, whether the guy liked it or not. The walk was awkward as is, so, seeing as the man did nothing to break the tension, Korra did. "So . . . how was your day?"

He groaned irritably; it looked like she interrupted him while he was deep in thought.

"I take it as good?" _Man this guy's a stiff, and I thought Tenzin was bad._ She tried again, nonetheless. "Are those new boots?"—

"Stop talking," his hoarse voice gave sharply, eyes forward, pace unyielding.

Korra soured, and placed her hands on her hips to keep them from punching this man for his rudeness. "I have to since you're not. It wouldn't kill you to make a conversation, you know."

"I dislike meaningless questions. I also find it beneath me to converse with a prisoner."

But Korra would not relent, and enjoyed how easily her pestering was getting under this guy's skin in the duration of each other's company. "How old are you?" Korra continued to question; quirking a smile to the back of his mask.

"Also a pointless question."

"Forty two?"

"No . . ."

"Thirty seven?"

"No."

"Really?" Korra furrowed her brow, eyeing him with a comical suspicion. "With that mustache I would have thought you'd be in your late thirties or something."

The lieutenant turned around to Korra and glowered at her, his nostrils flaring with a frown to match. "I'm not that old! And you do not have to be old to have a mustache, little girl."

"I've never seen anyone my age have a mustache."

"I do not care."

"Do you even have hair on that head of yours?" The Lieutenant was getting more irritated when she changed the subject when he refused to answer her previous question, and was starting to think unkind things of how to shut this brat up.

"Are you?"

Unable to keep his frustration bottled up anymore, and getting a headache in the process, the Lieutenant growled at her. "What!"

"Are you bald?" she repeated, unaffected by his shout.

"No, I am not!"

"Can I see?"

_"No!" _he snapped.

"Why not?" the dark-skinned teenager frowned.

"Because I said so."

"You don't have to be embarrassed. Being bald is not such a bad thing. I myself was bald in my past life." From her tone it was little less than convincing, her face even failed to hide her regard of displeasure of her own notion.

All composure long since compromised, the Lieutenant ripped around and gave the water tribe immigrant the most malevolent glare he could muster in his tired state. "I. Am. **Not**. Bald. You. Noisy. Little. Brat!"

Korra let that last part go as they reached to the top. "You would definitely look a lot younger if you got rid of those whiskers," she commented dryly, passing his glare off with a wave as she passed him by two steps. Behind her back the Lieutenant hissed 'They are not whiskers' as they reached the top. He rudely cut her off from her path to his quarters, rushing to the door, while she continued up a few more steps to Amon's. But before her hand even touched the handle of the door, Korra turn her head slightly and looked at him from the corner of her eye, and cracked a fiendish smirk.

"Hey, Whiskers."

Scowling, the Lieutenant really did not want to respond to that nickname the avatar gave him. Frankly, he was happy that this was only a one-time thing since Amon had to redo all the paperwork. And knowing that he would regret this afterward, he compressed his mouth to look directly at the avatar above him, giving her his best blank stare.

"Congratulations, we just had a conversation."

His frown deepened, his resentment for the rude girl's increased, and with a rough rip at the door that nearly tore it off its hinges, the Lieutenant retreated inside before slamming the door shut.

Korra smiled one last time at the mistreated door, indulging in her small verbal victory, before she, too, stepped inside, tired, sore, and quite frankly, worn from working all day. For spirits sake, Korra would rather do conditioning than wash dishes all day and subject herself to thirteen hours of ridicule.

The first thing Korra's eyes came in contact with was the sight of Amon sitting in the one of the couches, staring back at her for a fleeting moment before his attention returned to the papers in his grasp. Korra had to assume they were probably the new copies of the ones she ruined. She mentally shrugged, and was making her way to the bed—until that disturbing voice derailed her course not a moment too late before her body fell into the cushions.

"Sit here, young avatar. I do not give you permission to sleep yet."

Korra frowned at him. "Am I in trouble?" She narrowed, taking a step back. Maybe the Lieutenant wasn't _too_ mad at her to allow her to spend the night with him instead? She can sleep on the floor. She snuck a quick glance to the door in the dark, and frowned at the how slim the chances are for her to make it before Amon could catch up to her.

With nothing but the candle-lit fire illuminating some measly light under the moonlit night, she could make out a humored glint in his shadowed eyes. It made her heart skip a beat.

His eyes smiled at her playfully, "No, you are not in trouble." His voice was teasing and ghostlike, the night heightening this man into something more than just a mere mortal. "Sit here." He slid his hand out next to his side, patting it like a person would give praise to a dog. "Next to me." Those words sent a shiver of wrong in Korra, like they were tempting her to concede.

Sit . . . next to Amon? Korra didn't know how to the respond to that. Personally she didn't like being too close to him. Jus the smell of him broke her equilibrium and a hankering for his elusive touches. But Korra had no other choice. This was the first time she never got caught trying to make an escape, and Amon said it himself that she was not in trouble, so, Korra sat next Amon hastily, convincing herself that all he wanted was to talk. And the first thing she did after was inhale the mixture of a male's scent and freshly laundered linen, and in an instant, she was hypnotized into a mush of red and butterflies. It was so intoxicating, and so powerful. Korra was so lost in her exhilaration; she nearly forgot who was sitting next to her.

But the shroud was quickly uplifted the moment he placed his hands on her arm.

Korra started to panic. "W-what are you doing?"

"I am confirming whether this uniform is proper to your measurements."

All apprehension dissipated Korra's body right there and then, images of what he did last night burning into her eyes faded. Prodded and inspected, Korra allowed this man to handle only to get this procedure over with as soon as possible—not out of obedience. And when he was done, she was elated when he said:

"It will due."

Then a piece of paper flashed in Korra face, snapping her from the promising idea that was reason he wanted for her to sit next to him. With shaken hands, she took the paper from his grasp, giving it a perturbed look. "What am I suppose to do with this?"

"Read it out loud," that smooth voice commanded with authority. Another shiver, another blush, and Korra was melting in her suit.

Korra gave Amon a sideways glance, mentally grasping desperately for her focus to remain, wary of what he was playing at. But as she saw nothing dangerous, or make sense of those amused eyes from the confounding scent, she brought the paper closer to the candle and read what was on the paper, not seeing Amon's arm lift to rest on top of the couch just above Korra's head, his bare hand dangling next to the side of her face. When she finished she had no clue what she had just said. "What did I just say?" Korra said out loud, more to herself than to Amon.

"It is a financial contract," Amon explained. "The original contained a drawing over my signature. That would have been inappropriate if it was to be turned in in such as state, wouldn't you think so?"

Korra stared at Amon for a while. And then she scowled, his intention unveiled to her like an open book. "This is for ruining the paperwork, isn't it?"

"Clearly."

"You said I wasn't in trouble," Korra grumbled under her scarf, throwing herself back into the couch in a pout. So much for not getting into trouble for one whole day.

"My intentions were never to _physically_ harm you, young avatar. Nothing of the sort." He pushed a pile of. "You are, however, going to help me file these papers for all the trouble you caused me."

"Are you joking with me?"

"One thing you will come to know about me is that I do not joke."

"Damn you."

"Language, young avatar," he chastised sharply. Korra glared up to him, she was not a child to be lectured at. He placed in her hand yet another piece of paper. "Continue. Just a few more, and you will be permitted to sleep."

"Or what?" She tested. "And if I refuse to play your little clerk, then what?"

"Refuse me, and I can determine another _activity _for you and I to enjoy."

Korra couldn't have read the first sentence fast enough. Two full papers later, and Korra still didn't understand a word that came out of her own mouth, it was alien, and she didn't care to understand it either way since sleep was forcing her brain to shut down. Spirits, she wanted to sleep so bad. And to get away from this man.

But as Amon passed Korra another contract for her to read, Korra didn't know what led him to do so, but he started talking to her.

"And how was our day today?"

Korra wasn't sure how to answer that, especially to Amon. She would try to read him to figure out what he was getting at, but saw those cold and calculating orbs behind those slips were just as exhausted as hers.

Korra mumbled, "Good . . . "

Amon smiled from under his mask. "Just '_good_'?"

"Yes." She hissed venomously, whether it was Amon's pestering, or the fact that she was dead tired. "Just _good_."

"Care to tell me what left you to think your day was _good_?" There was a dead humor playing in his voice, Korra speculated it to keep her from falling asleep. It was working; the part of her brain that functioned the most was the frustration at his prodding.

"It would have been more bearable if it wasn't for the part about cooking for a bunch of obnoxious losers." Korra specified, fed up. She didn't care if he didn't like what she said either, even when she heard him frown, what happened today will not go unnoticed. "Why am I doing this again?"

"I instructed you to do so, that is why."

"I don't want to do this anymore," she said sharply.

"It is not up to you to cancel your employment. Besides as I have said before, this arrangement is only temporary." Amon broke their mutual eye contact and started to scribble whatever it was that needed his mark.

"And what if I have a complaint?"

Amon stopped what he was doing, then gazed at the avatar with an even softer amusement. What could she complain about, Amon had to wonder. "And what sort of complaints do you wish to share with me, young avatar?"

"Your men were harassing me."

His smile was less then inclined this time. "Harassing you?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a frown, an unpleasant frown.

"Verbally . . . or physically?"

Korra wasn't sure what Amon meant by that. They made fun of her. How simple could she explain it, they were bothering her that made her upset and she wanted to end it. But from the Amon was looking at her now, fully, and more intently this time, she didn't want to say the wrong thing and get more people in trouble, even if said people were nothing but crumbs.

"I-I don't know what you mean by that. They took advantage of my position as cook. They called me waitress! And one of them made me pick up one of their stupid napkins, for spirits sake!" All of a sudden, it became easier for her speak her case in front of the leader of the Equalists. She had an awful day, maybe the fact that she was talking about what happened today was the reason for being open with herself. "They even laughed at me when I did it, too. They made fun at me every time I served their tables." Images of that rotten rat-faced man flashed before Korra's eyes, she would have sent a blast of fire in that general direction—any direction, really—had her bending been left un-tampered.

"Verbally then."

"Whatever. The point is you were wrong, and I don't want to do this anymore."

"You will do as you are told. And this supposed harassment you speak of is a kind of accusation I will not tolerate. Do not lie to me—_ever_."

Korra's face twisted into shock. "I'm not lying!" Korra tried, hoping that somehow he will at least try something—anything—to keep his men from treating her badly.

But from the strain in his eyes and the weary look he was giving said enough of how tired this man was. "This discussion is over, young avatar," his voice rasped. "I suggest you calm your temper and rest. You are still working tomorrow, and I will not have another word against this. Yes?"

Korra bit her bottom lip so hard her teeth were about to break through the soft skin. This man can't be serious! Korra_ really_ wanted to punch him. But her body was weary, probably more than Amon, he wasn't the one slaving over plates for hundreds of hungry, smart-mouthed, equalists.

"_Yes_?" The question was harsher, impatient for an answer.

Not wanting trouble, Korra yielded, "Yes," and dropped her head in defeat.

Removing herself from the cushions of the couch—and away from that ungodly scent—Korra mumbled things beyond her own comprehension, casting off her boots carelessly, and threw herself into those soft, silky covers of the large bed, tugging her way towards the poofy pillows, and went limp in the fabrics, her body long overdue for rest.

The last thing Korra heard before slumber lifted her from the physical world was, "Good night, young avatar," and then her eyelids closed to darkness.

There were no dreams this time, only a black canvas of nothingness. There were no spirits to offer guidance like her past life was blessed with, and, to her greatest sadness, there were no dreams of her family and friends.

Night came and went, the sun rising to spread its light over the metropolis Korra once thought to be the starting point of her adventure. And the inducement that has Korra thinking in such a way tore her covers from her body, exposing her to the chilling morning weather entering from the open window. Korra practically jumped in the air from his sudden action.

"We must go now, young avatar. You will not be late."

Korra huffed into the pillow as she tried to wrap it around her head, mouthing off to Amon again, before, knowing very well any insolence of the sort will have her wind up on the other end of Amon's hand, Korra regrettably got up from the bed, and followed Amon out towards the mess hall to be discarded. There was no Lieutenant this time to join them, he was somewhere else Amon needed him to be, and it didn't bother Korra in the least as to where he was. The man was an eyesore in the morning, Korra was happy he didn't show up.

Amon left Korra with Issah and other cook wordlessly, patting her on the head as a quick farewell, and disappeared beyond the boundaries of the mess hall. Figuratively, Korra kicked him in the butt as he went.

Today—because the spirits apparently enjoy making her life as miserable and disappointing as their power would allow—Issah took Korra to one of the stoves and tried to teach her the basic fundamentals of cooking.

Although Korra was a fast learner, her brain failed to comprehend what it was that the equalist cook was trying to teach her. Maybe it was his way of trying to socialize with her, Korra thought at one point. It was difficult to decide whether that was true or not, as the man had a face that showed little to no emotion in every action he took, as if his face was stuck like that. She tried making small talk, asking him about his slick-black hair and how he can keep it held back while not sweating off the gel—anything worth talking about—but was diverted back to the tomato she was suppose to chop up into slices, nearly cutting off her finger in the process.

At the stroke of seven o' clock, the seats have been occupied much quicker compared to yesterday. But Korra could tell by the look of every single equalist behind the kitchen counter, their glinting leers and witch-like grins, their early arrivals had little to do with eating breakfast.

And when it came time for Korra to start serving tables, their reactions were as Korra expected.

Walking down the first table with Issah close by to assist her, Korra would place one place after the other, giving each person a dirty look if any of them said anything back to her. She dared them to say something to her. Korra would not throw her dignity for this, not this, and not to Amon. He didn't even care if she was being harassed—_no, he didn't even believe her_! Whatever. Korra will rip off a head or any other appendage if anyone thought today was another day to give the avatar crap.

On the fourth row the rat-faced man was, like yesterday, and, much to Korra's chagrin, in his usual seat companied by his little group of followers. His face twisted into a putrid smile that cracked his cheeks, his nose crinkling grotesquely, and those sickly-colored eyes smiling at her like a potential meal. Korra sneered at the man as she closed in on their group, having to return to the kitchen and fetch them their plates and save two trips of not having to deal with them again.

"Lookie here, the _waitress_!"

A brow worked its way upward on Korra's face when that sour tone tore into her ears_._ Her fingers clenched a plate as it was passed off to a woman who was giggling into her hands.

"And what did our waitress cook for us today, hmm?" those snake-like lips parted, twisting the face into something worse than what Amon probably had under his mask. "Come on bearcat! Shake a leg now."

Korra didn't bother to stare at the face where that slithery voice was coming from—she was tearing his hair off inside her imaginative brain, though. It helped, but to physically pursue her dream would have sufficed more so. "Nothing you would deserve, lowlife," she hissed venomously. "And don't talk to me like that!"

Half the table snickered at what Korra said.

"My," sniggered the snake-man. "What ever did I do to deserve such a savage remark?" He asked out rhetorically, spitting up a storm of laughter with his friends as he continued without intervention. "The avatar sure is brutish," he rolled her title with open arrogance and disrespect.

Korra growled, slamming another plate down on the table, the receiver flinched back at the sudden action. "If there's anyone who is brutish here, it's you," she countered.

The man shrieked out a single laugh. "Me brutish?" His asked, feigning innocence. "No, doll. In reality, it is you who is the real brute—or _savage_ as many of us see you as. You and the rest of your lot?"

Elegant brows furrowed in a mess, the message encrypted behind those words had little relation to the usual repugnance of 'bending', as it were, Korra did not like the way he said 'your lot'.

"You water-bending savages know no manners, let alone sophistication. While the rest of us try to evolve from the wars your kind wrought, you savages stick to picking sticks and making little huts in the snow.

_Shut up._

"You hunt and eat like rabid wolves. You probably don't even wash yourselves on a daily basis, probably why you smell so awful."

_Shut. **Up!**_

"Why I bet _ten yuans_ your own mother has never taken a bath before. Huh, **_avatard_**?"

By this time Korra was fuming at the emphasis of this man's creative nickname for her. She wanted to bash him into the ground, burn him to a crisp, and throw his ashes in a dirty trash bin.

As good as that sounded, Korra knew better than to do such a thing. So she did what her body settled to do.

No one noticed, between the laughing and the gut-splitting guffaws, the plate of cooked rice and eggs hovering over the man's head. And they did not notice the avatar, twisted by hate and blinded in an ocean of red, tipping the bowl and allowing the cooked—now wasted—food spill all over the man. Her action summoned a muted symphony from all around, no spoke or muttered a sound when they saw what Korra did. No one laughed, and no one moved.

She proceeded to tear him from his seat, point at him with a digit, glaring daggers as she did, and practically screamed at him: "You can say whatever you want about me—to my face! But never **_EVER _**_involve my mother!_"

At first the man stared up to Korra in a dazed stupor, but that quickly changed when his faced returned to its familiar grotesqueness.

"You little brat, I'll tan you!"

He lunged for her. Korra lunged for him. All Korra could think about as the man spat at her feet was answering his constant harassment with a punch that will have him limping for the rest of his life—when, out of nowhere, a figure somehow fabricated in the space between her and the man.

"Woah there Jokyl, " the young man tried, his arms raised, hands firmly pressed against the man and Korra's handsome shoulder. "Let's not be too brash. Give the avatar a break."

Korra broke her glare from her would-be opponent at the sound of their intruder's voice, as much as she would have liked to continue, and recognized it almost instantly. Peering over the man's shoulder, she saw rosy cheeks, eyes born with every shades of aqua blue, a big goofy—naturally tense in his situation—smile that reached to both ears, with curly brown hair to go with his energetic personality. He was about the same height as Korra, his arms spread out as if he was about block a huge boulder coming his way. The rat-faced man, taller than him by a forehead, kept his gaze on Korra and ignored the intruder completely.

It was Tarko. The one that unwittingly confessed his feelings to her without realizing it. And, after a fleeting recollection of yesterday's affairs, the man who did not tell his superior her escape attempt after finding the avatar in his locker.

But Jokyl didn't budge, his glare still fixated solely on Korra. "This is an engagement that doesn't concern you, Tarko."

"But as a junior veteran I believe this _does _concern me," Tarko attempted to pass.

The man scoffed. "That brat needs to be taught a lesson."

"And you should know a thing or two in respecting a lady," Tarko tsked.

"A bender does not deserve sympathy from us—especially her."

"Then you know nothing of what our cause is striving for," Korra's savior murmured harshly, less comical and more serious than his usual character. "And if you need a reminder, I will be more than happy to set an appointment for the Lieutenant to impress upon you what we are really trying to do here." On that, the feral hostility in the man's eyes subsided, he backed away.

After nodding to Tarko that he wasn't going to pursue, he did however, give Korra his piece. "Until next time, avatard . . ."

"Any time, any place—freak."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

"I bet you will."

Before things got out of hand—_again_—Tarko mumbled an, "okay," snatching Korra's arm out of the air—which was thrusting out and jabbing a finger in Jokyl's unamused face. With his hand still latched onto her shoulder, Tarko had to shove Korra with all his strength for her to budge away from the retreating Jockyl. The two looked at each other one last time, exchanging obscene gestures and faces, before both relented in unison and continued on with their own business.

_I'll get him. One of these days, I'll make him bleed_. Korra was already concocting numerous ways to do just that, until her savior started gibbering to her to make sure she was okay. As he did, Korra couldn't help but notice the small blush that brightened his face, it brought out those gorgeous eyes. He smirked sheepishly when she was willing enough converse with him. He took then, with less force than before, to his side of the table, where there was less hatred given to her at her arrival.

"I believe you already know Rumis and Fo." He gestured to the two men, who were staring after Korra with nonchalance—there was a hint of distaste lurking in Rumis' dark green eyes. Fo gestured him a pleasant greeting, whereas everyone else were nonchalant. "And that one over there is Mirri." Tarko waved off to a young woman with wavy short-cut black hair with her nose in a book. "All in all, this is the junior veteran's abode. No novices or senior's to bust our good times."

Korra smiled a little more. "That's great . . . I guess."

"Here," he scooted Fo, jabbing him with his elbow as he did, and when Fo was about to yell at him as to why he did that, Tarko sent his comrade a wink before creating a larger gap between him and Mirr. "Sit here, trust me we won't bite."

Korra took her seat, as awkward as it was for everyone else—more for her actually.

Korra raised a brow, so did Rumis. He had a light and humorous voice, not as sarcastically spoken as Tarko, but uncanny enough for anyone to get the wrong impression with his words. It didn't appear to Fo that he had that kind of ability.

"Pipe down, Fo," Rumis snapped.

"You pipe down," Fo snapped back, "I was only being friendly." He flicked a piece of egg at him, it was slapped away effortlessly by a tired and worn Rumis.

"Friendly with a _prisoner_—"

"_Oh my spirits_, you are such a downer."

Rumis made a nasty face at Fo. And Fo gave him the same. And right before the two were about to have a little tussle of their own, a sharp command from Mirri got them to stop.

To ease the tension flustering the atmosphere overhead, Korra made for a conversational interaction between the two, as much as she disliked equalists as a whole. She didn't really care about making friends at all actually, especially with these people. But it was better talking to non-violent equalists than toiling away for snobbish wolfbats like everyone else who seemed to fit the profile of a regular crony.

"So, are you two brothers?" she tried, performing yet another smile to show her enthusiasm towards them. Honestly, too, they looked exactly alike. It wasn't like Mako and Bolin at all, neither of their features were quite the same. But with these two equalists, it was like looking at twins, both having the same dark green eyes and black hair. The only difference was that Rumis had wavy black hair that sparked out in different directions, whereas Fo had depressing locks of hair handing over his forehead as if it were dead.

Fo smiled at Korra with excitement, so did Tarko, but not Rumis. "No—but it's okay. Everyone thinks the same way. We're cousins," he responded happily.

For some odd reason, the fake smile that had one once been resigned and deceitful, quirked up a fraction out of sheer amusement. Maybe it was the hunger. Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that Korra had not seen Mako or Bolin for so long, this guy reminded her so much of them.

"So . . ." Tarko fumbled, looking at his untouched food as he stabbed at his fried eggs. ". . . making friends with the self-righteous, and egotistic Jokyl?" He eyed at her cautiously.

Korra smirked, looking over her shoulder to see Jokyl talking with his companions softly. "Famously."

"You better keep away from him."

Korra turned back to the bright summery glow that emitted from Tarko, that same goofy smile still there even as she gave him a disturbed look. "Why? He's not that big of a man," She spat, not as viciously as she was used to.

"You would think so. But I'm not trying to lower your spirits by saying he is considered one of the best in his division."

Korra expression drooped. "You're kidding?"

"Wish I was," he shrugged lazily, thrusting some eggs in his mouth. "He even took out little ole Mirri over there—not that I'm complaining about that part," He chewed sarcastically, earning him a flashing look from Mirri, still reading and not speaking a word on her behalf.

Korra furrowed her brows again. "Is that big?"

"Very," he answered breathlessly. "Rumors stands that he'll be promoted much sooner than normal like the rest of us."

Korra looked over to where the Jockly man was again, his group were oddly compelled in a different aura of authority, as if they were different from the people Korra was sitting right now. Unable to hide her curiosity, Korra questioned intently to no one in particular but for someone to answer: "Who is he hanging around with?"

"The senior veteran equalists—of course," he rasped lowly, joining her in her staring, his glance towards Jockly as feral as Korra's. "They are a rank higher than most of us. And they are the most awful lot you would want to get on your bad side."

"And he's with them why?"

"Like I said: he might be promoted."

Korra nodded slowly, taking in the information delicately, gracefully refraining her inner frustration from taking her over from doing anything she will later regret.

"If you are going to fight him, I suggest you refrain from fire-bending."

Korra whipped around to the source of the voice, looking to the cousins and Tarko, they obviously weren't speaking to her as the cousins were debating over something and Tarko was still eyeing his eggs with an aimless gaze. A tug on her shoulder uniform, and Korra turned to Mirri, whose book was placed in front of her closed, her plate cleaned and spoon neatly placed next to it.

"Air-bending is something most of us are not familiar with."

She didn't know what caused her to do so, but Korra found herself saying, "I can't air-bend."

Mirri passed her statement as if it were nothing. "Then fire-bending is your best option. Water-bending and earth-bending are less dangerous for our skills. The training we undergo perfected our bodies to withstand and outmaneuver those specific elements," she specified elegantly. The gestures used in her explanations flowed with grace and dexterity, even her words hailed. "Considering every air-bender in both the northern and southern clans were pacifists in natures, air-bending techniques are foreign to us. Fire-bending is just as dangerous, but we have been briefed periodically to hold our ground to the very least."

Tarko scooted closer to Korra, smirking with his eyes narrowed, transforming his facial expression like that of a fox. "No one here really favors Jockyl, _if you haven't noticed_."

Korra was getting confused, especially as everyone around her started looking at her, even some people who weren't even involved into the conversation.

He must have felt brave today, because Tarko attempted another inch closer to the avatar. "You know something," he started saying, perching his chin in his hand as he looked to the mess halls ceiling. His eyes played nonchalance, but the glittering in his eyes revealed a darker intention hiding behind that ever-growing smile that defined his persona. "I think senior veteran's start practice right after lunch—in two standard hours to be exact." He winked at her, sparkling with delight, before he turned and stretched out his arms, yawning. "But, why would you care—I mean you're busy with the cooking and cleaning. Not like you got time for a little . . . payback. Besides, it would be our duty to report to Amon if you tried anything or disrupted our schedules in any sort of way."

As Tarko continued to drawl on about his visible ignorance, Korra adored him with a softness. He was above all the most kindhearted, lax, and care-free equalist Korra had the pleasure of knowing—even when their first meeting, unknown to Tarko, was less than, if not, at all, traditional.

"Tarko."

Excusing the fact that the avatar knew his name, but rather, face flushing with excitement at the fact that she even _said_ his name, Tarko gazed at her as she rose from her seat to pick up her lonely saucers as she said something he never dreamed a bender to say to him.

"Thank you."

And with that as her parting to the man who saved her skin not once but twice, Korra left to the back of the kitchen, claiming she desperately required the bathroom, to manage her way to the men's locker room.

* * *

At the precise hour at four o'clock, the senior veteran soldiers arrived in orderly fashioned rows, bearing themselves in front of their enigmatic leader, Amon. There were exactly twenty-two, plus four, as well as Amon, the Lieutenant, and two other officials who would oversee their afternoon training. And it was this particular day, as it was indeed uncommon for most equalist comrades who trained under their session, that Amon would ever make an appearance.

And with the heat ventilated inside sweating their backs, and the tense atmosphere that drew shivers of anticipation and adrenaline to burn through their veins like a rabid disease, this session would be a most interesting lesson indeed.

Amon felt it would be, too. Even with their protective gear over their faces, it was the language of their body that told him enough how nervous his men were under his presence. He will have to purge that, it affected him more than it did them. "We will proceed to conditioning, then after, the usual. Please keep in mind, I am not interested in anything particularly creative or dangerous for your own wellbeing. This is only a practice, after all." He had lightened his tune, while at the same time, forbidding himself from breaking the professionalism his position demanded. As if his words were the trigger, the shreds of tension vanished and in its place birthed confidence in the eyes of their leader. Amon approved their progress, and gestured for them to begin.

The recruits conditioned in their suits, it was a requirement, not to mention disrespectful not to, especially in front of their superiors. The heat over their shoulders, on the other hand, brought sweat to their skin, some already heaving even after their fourth lap.

But Amon was too busy taking charge of his group to notice the struggling rows performing their laps. He steadied himself into the usual position with both arms at his sides rather than behind his back like he felt comfortable. Five of his men surrounded him in a circle, bowing their respect before they, too, proceeded to the stance they felt most comfortable in.

With a wave, Amon beckoned, "Begin."

The first two were dealt with without much effort; Amon hardly stepped out of his stance. They gave themselves up before they could even raise an arm against him, leaving so many openings it could hardly be considered a challenge. Amon brushed it off; however, and corrected the mistakes each person would make, before repeating their spar again and again, until he could be satisfied.

They finished on a sour note for many reasons. Firstly, none of his opponents had worked out the problems Amon tried to correct. But that was not what bothered him the most. For some odd reason, each person kept scratching at their bodies as if they had insects crawling inside their suits, Amon did not know what to make of it. Obviously he had to order them to stop, it was disrespectful and undisciplined.

Reluctantly they had stopped, only fidgeting until he would give them permission to take their leave, then after, they scratched at their shoulders and rears as they walked away for their conditioning.

"Amon."

Answering to his calling, Amon gave his Lieutenant his full attention. "Yes?"

"The new four you promoted are showing promising results, sir."

"Most excellent," Amon approved. "And the first year's?" he asked, curiously.

"Exceptional to say the least," his second-in-command droned. "Morrk needs to work on his kicks. Irra can't rise a punch even if her life depended on it."

Amon took to the information with consideration. "Any other deficiencies?"

"Minimal in standards, sir."

Amon pinched the chin tip of his mask, contemplating before speaking to his Lieutenant at last. "We will have to diminish this obstacle. I do not want complications, we already have the avatar in custody, and I do not want this opportunity to go to waste."

The Lieutenant nodded as a solid agreement, but pursued yet another matter to address his superior, it did not bother Amon, he was always happy to answer any question his second-in-command would ask of him.

"If I may be so bold, sir?"

"You always are."

"As you have told me before, you have your reasons refraining from permanently purifying the avatar," the Lieutenant perked, keeping his words from escalating above the limit of his position as the second-in-command of the equalists. "But if it is not so much for me to ask: why grant her such freedom beyond the traditional conditions of her containment?"

As enigmatic and detached that separated Amon from the natural nature of a human being, he could not help but quirk a smirk at his Lieutenant. They had known one another since the very beginning of this organization, having proved his loyalty too many times for Amon to fully verify. And even if he was the leader and he was his Lieutenant, there was no invention of dishonesty that has fabricated their mutual affections.

So when Amon answered his Lieutenant through the mouth-piece of his mask, his words flowed with pure honesty. "Think of it as a minor rehabilitation."

Beneath those goggles, Amon could hear with his sharp hearing his Lieutenant's black brow crease up in confusion. "How so? She could very well be devising yet another escape attempt. Have you not considered that?"

"I have."

"Then why employ her?"

Amon shifted slightly to where his Lieutenant stationed at, standing erect with his hands behind his back just like Amon. "Do you not have faith in me?" He toyed, narrowing in a teasing manner.

His Lieutenant acted just as Amon assumed he would. "I have complete faith in your decisions, you know that!"

"My question meant little more than to confirm my suspicion, my faithful Lieutenant," he smoothed softly, basking in his friends flustered state. "And as for the avatar, the purpose of her employment is to eliminate all impression she has of our organization. My hope, in truth, is perhaps the avatar will see what we truly stand for, and bear her arms for our cause."

"Obtaining the avatar's loyalty to gain both political and social favor _could _provide us the advantage."

"And it shall occur under those proceedings whether she is a willing ally or not."

Screams filled the arena, dragging both the Lieutenant and Amon's attentions to a site both thought to be outright bizarre—and wrong. Each and every equalist were either on the floor or running in circles, scratching at themselves in places Amon never wished to bear witness to.

"Oh gods—_I'm getting rashes_!"

"**_My suit! MY SUIT!_**"

One by one, equalists fighter dropped to the ground while others squirmed in their suits, casting off their masks so they can scratch at their necks as if their suits were inhabited by bugs.

The Lieutenant and the other high officials tried to help the shrieking people as best as they could, but to no avail. By now, most of Amon's men were on the floor twitching while others resorted to stripping themselves of their uniforms down to their boxers and making a run for the showers.

* * *

Watching as they all ran for the showers, crashing into one another and screaming at each other to get out of the way, Korra was outside the back exit on her knees coughing fits of laughter. It took only a few minutes to fill the insides of every senior veteran's suits with the athletic relieving cream, if used improperly; it could cause some serious burns to a person's skin. And, as most of the men crowding into the showers to wash themselves off, it worked exactly as Korra had planned.

As Korra sniggered and muffled her laughter with her hands, she saw from the angle her hiding spot could offer, a clear view of Amon rushing out of the arena—and most likely to where she was.

_Crap!_ Korra ran back to the mess hall as fast as she could manage. _Please don't beat me there_, she begged. _Please don't beat me there._

Korra ignored the purpose of the ladder and jumped off the higher level and rolled a perfect landing to the lower platform to continue her dash to where she was suppose to be. Korra can only imagine the cruel things Amon would do to her when he found out what she did to his men—_if_ he finds out. But when she made it to the back entrance of the kitchen, the idea of escaping punishment was of little to no comfort at all for as Korra was just about to enter the kitchen, she ran into Issah's chest with a loud thumb, and fell back on impact.

Korra looked back up to the tall man fearfully. Swallowing down the lump of fear down to the pit of her stomach, Korra clenched her eyes shut from the kitchen doors ripping open, listening tentatively the harsh steps it took Amon to find Korra next to Issah.

He did not bother to spare her a moment's breath to come up with an alibi.

"Minutes ago, an incident occurred involving my men. What were you doing during that time?"

Korra couldn't answer. The rage in his eyes prevented her from speaking. But she had to try, for the sake of her dignity, she knew that would be the cost if he knew what she did behind his back.

"I . . ."

"What is it?" He yelled accusingly, his eyes said it all, he would never believe her even if Korra told him the best lie she could create.

"She was with me."

Amon looked to the nonchalant cook. So did Korra.

"The young avatar was helping me take out the potato peels to prepare for dinner."

Those handsome shoulders that hoisted Amon's arms lowered at the cook's statement. "Is that true?"

"Yes, sir," Issah confirmed firmly, the face of which he wore still emotionless and depraved of feeling. "She has proven herself to be a competent worker . . . though her skills in peeling in general is in need of refining." Out of the blue, just when this guy couldn't surprise Korra anymore, the slightest nudge of a faint but visible smirk planted the man's feature.

Korra stared after Issah with a gaping mouth. In the time spent for Korra to socialize with this man, he never expressed a speck of emotion towards her—or anyone—even when it came to conversation, unless it had to do with culinary arts.

But here he was, in front of Korra—lying to Amon, to his face—to save her. Her? Why?

"I see." A conflict could be seen by looking in the man's shrouded eyes, Korra watched him take it in, then a wink later, his eyes were softenend by relief. "That is very good to hear. And the avatar has not been giving you trouble, I hope?"

"Not at all, sir," Issah actually worked up a tiny smile. "She has been a pleasure to have company."

"Good to hear." Amon turned to Korra now, with softer intentions than previously intended. "I am pleased to hear you are taking to this task well, young avatar. I am very proud."

Not wanting to put Issah's effort in saving her rump in vain, Korra worked her features into—with great will power and endurance—a soft smile, like Issah, mumblilng a proper, "Thank you," before shutting her mouth up before it could do her damage.

"I will retrieve you after dinner."

"Yes, sir."

When Amon left, along with the intimidation he was cursed with following after him through the doors, Korra turned to Issah and tried to come up with some kind of form of gratitude for what he did for her. He had seen her run, her crime written all over her face, yet he had done nothing to hand her over to Amon—like Tarko. Korra had never felt more grateful weighing her heart than ever before. But her lips just could not perform properly.

"I . . . th—"Korra bit down her tongue.

A plate with a sandwich on top was thrust in Korra's perplexed face. "Please enjoy this broth with stewed carrots and roots. It will be served for dinner with the cooked potatoes."

Holding the plate in her hands, Korra could smell the strong enthralling flavors that made the thick broth so appetizing. This was her way of gratitude, stop throwing away this man's art-inspiring food and eat it, enough said. Her stomach didn't complain, and neither did Korra. She licked the plate clean in a matter of minutes. Her stomache had never felt more satisfied since . . . Korra smiled.

Since Pema's cooking.

The rest of the day carried on in lighter moods, a smile was on Korra's face the entire time she set up the plates. She smiled even more as she walked to a full seated mess hall of disgruntled equalists recruits. The air was less excited as it was before, decreasing more as Korra made her appearance. There was not one word, not even a clatter of utensils.

Jockyl's group was the first Korra visited. And this time there were no sneers being thrown at her.

Placing the first plate in front of Jockyl, who looked exhausted with puffy red eyes under soaked black hair, Korra did not excuse her smile at the sight of this man. There were red scratch marks covering his face, most of them colored his reddened cheeks like an animal had attacked him.

Korra's smile grew wider.

No one turned to face her, even as Korra passed out the food and moved on to the next row. Excluding them, everyone else were fine, chuckling even at the sight of the very people who did not feel the need to hold back their disdain for the avatar now silenced by a small prank. Everyone knew it was Korra, she knew. A person would have to be stupid not to think it wasn't her. Only Korra would do something so disrespectful in the eye of their savior.

But their leader said it wasn't her. Amon told them she didn't do it.

And no one questioned it.

Except one.

Reaching Tarko's table, her welcome was regarded with affectionate thank you's and smiles, but when she reached out to place a plate for Tarko to enjoy, he edged closer to her, and asked the very question almost every occupant was wondering:

"Did you do it? Did you sabotage their uniforms?"

Korra gifted the smirking teenager a fake but friendly smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tarko smiled at Korra, then after, when their eyes locked for a brief moment, he turned away with a reddened flush. Korra's smile turned genuine, he reminded her so much of Bolin.

Watching from afar, Amon looked after the avatar with a smile on his lips. Though he knew very well Korra had done the deed, it was less concerning compared to her influence with his. And watching her converse with them so friend-like, not screaming or thrashing about days before, Amon would let her actions slip just this once.

Amon approached Korra and gave her his compliments for her apparent compliance, smiling proudly until his Lieutenant commented to her something he did not catch in time, as the avatar lifted her arm, sniffed it, inched toward his second to get him to smell her. Amon quickly ended it before things got out of hand.

Then again. Amon frowned. There is still room for improvement.

* * *

Oh god, I hope I did a good job on this one (it still feels kind of rushed. Ugh.). I hope you all liked it, too. Ummm. . .Some words like crumb and bearcat have another meaning back then in the time I think Korra is in. Crumb: A fink, a loser by social standards. Bearcat: a hot-blodded or fiery girl. The next two chapters won't have as much of Amorra interactiong mainly because, like Amon OOC said it himself, he can't always take care of Korra. Sooner or later one lucky equalist gets the temp job. But of course, I wont make it easy for them. Kihihihi!

Personal Thoughts:

Alot of rewriting. I wanted to keep to the characters (if they don't then let me know) even though Amon is OOC, but still it gives me a challenge. Those teasing part wen Korra was harrassed _had_ to be gentle at most, mainly because Korra would never take that kind of crap forever. And she didn't, so yay. As for the equalists themselves, that is as much characters I will make. Too many characters would prove to be too confusing for this Amorra fanfic, and I'm not going to settle for that. The prank was inspired by a stupid moment with me and some of my teammates messing with ICYHOT, and we all got burned so bad it was painful (I don't even remember what led to that but I got a huge burn along my hip for like week. Respect ICYHOT, DONT scew with it).

Korra and the Lieutenants interactions are moments I quite enjoy the most. The guy looks like a stiff, and when it comes to those kind of people, you can't help but poke at them to get them all riled up. So more of that. And speaking of the Lieutenant. I kinda have an idea for an Amon/Lieutenant (or Lieumon/Amonant from what I heard) that I hope to write up, too. So when it comes up, hopefully before the end of my summer vacation, I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoy this fanfic. Until then . . .

Please review (thank you so much) :) Lots of love from one fan to all Amorra fans!


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